She Needs To Sort Out Her Priorities
by gilbee
Summary: What if in your quest to achieve your dream, you'll find yourself achieving nothing?
1. Chapter 1

Hi, good day/eve/night/whatever time it is that you have the misfortune on stumbling on this story. This story pops in my head after I've watched a documentary about something (I would not tell what it is for now). It constantly pops in my head that I realized that I need to write it in order for me to get rid of it out of my mind (Does that makes sense?). I don't know if I should continue this because it's a bit weird for me but maybe I would, it depends. So, I'll just post it like this so I can have a peace of mind. Anyway, you don't have to read this if you don't want to and I think **you shouldn't read this because it's badly written** and I just posted it here because I can and this is my account (LOL).

 **Disclaimer:** All characters are own by J.K.R.

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 **...**

I stared, despondent, as he walked towards the door. I watched as he turned around and faced me with a rather pained look. Tears were streaming down my face, cascading down like an endless waterfall. I can feel a huge lump in my throat and my brain's in a haze, disabling me to form coherent thoughts to tell him to stay. To tell him I am sorry.

I hear him drew a shuddering breath, probably trying his best not to cry again. I can see his knuckles turning white as he gripped the doorknob so hard, as if his life depended on it.

"I –I ... take care of yourself. I will no longer be here for you," I heard him said sadly, his tone hesitant and a tad imploring. I know he's giving me a chance to fix everything but I don't know how to in my current state. I shifted my gaze to the door, too afraid to meet his eyes and see the pain I've recently put in there. "So, I guess this is goodbye then... Goodbye, Hermione"

I, of course, didn't respond. In fact, I did nothing as he finally walked outside our flat, bringing everything he own with him in that knapsack he'd charmed as I screamed at him like a banshee telling him all sorts of insults I know from all the years we've been together. My heart keeps on telling me to stop being an idiot and go follow him and beg him to stay. To tell him I don't mean everything I've said a while ago. That I've said what I've said in my aim to verbally abuse and to inflict pain, not because I really mean them. But my brain says that it was better this way. I guess, when people around you make you suffer every time you're in their presence, there's a huge possibility that you'd be doing exactly the same thing towards others to just somehow get back at your original tormenter. It doesn't make sense, I know, but you get the point. Not that Ron make me suffer, well he can but no, it was the opposite actually. He was my anchor, my personal cheerleader, my source of moral support. It was that blasted Wizengamot.

A slot was finally available and I've been doing my best to snatch that position. But most members of the council were Pureblood extremists, if you'd ask them about that expect them denying such allegations for they were expected to be fair and just to everyone, but you'll just know that they are, Pureblood extremist that is.

For months, I've been doing my best to prove myself that I'm worthy enough for a position in the Wizengamot. But that's the funny thing about politics, isn't it? Everyone has their own hidden agenda. You should be valuable enough for them. It wouldn't matter what you can do for the society as a whole, what matters is what you can do for them. Of course, you couldn't really blame them; self-preservation is, after all, a primal human instinct.

Any human being with a brain can put two and two together and could say that I'm fighting a lost cause. Because if you're part of the majority of the Wizengamot which are obviously the "Pro-Pureblooders", as Ron has so eloquently named them, why would you allow a Muggle-born in the club, especially, if the said club can make or break or bend a law? The answer, obviously, would be a big, freaking nope. They wouldn't care if you help save the world. Once they're done with you, they're done, that's it. It's unfair, I know, but that's just how things go. Even my friends know that, well Ron point it out to me first but since it was me, he tried his best to support me all the way anyway. But, what did I do? I drove him away.

As I stay frozen, still stunned, in front of the foyer, I almost got deaf by the silence that suddenly enveloped me. Then it finally hit me like a huge tidal wave surging precariously towards me, Ron's gone. The phrase "All alone" keeps on flashing back and forth in my mind as I let myself collapse on the floor. The phrase, needless to say, is untrue. I still have friends, so technically one could argue that I'm not entirely alone. But, that's the thing, they're just my friends. Not that I'm belittling the role they have in my life. No, it's not that. It's just that, I need Ron.

I need him to hold me tight, drawing comforting circles on my back, as I tell him how bad my day was and how every single day I am losing hope in my faith that I'll have that dream slot given to me. I need to hear him formulate strings of curses addressed to the majority of the Wizengamot because they are slyly oppressing me and hear him say that if they wouldn't give me the position it'll be their loss.

That, actually, can make me all riled up at him, and would then arouse a rather heated row between us. I don't want to hear him saying ' _if they wouldn't give you that position it'd be their loss blah blah blah'_ , there shouldn't be an 'if', I should get that position no matter what. He, up to this time, still doesn't understand my perseverance on having a position on the Wizengamot. Even my friends don't. They don't understand which in turn irritates me and turned me into a nasty, infuriating hag that Ginny once told me that I am. Not that I could blame them, really. Their intellectual levels are far way below me. Yes, it sounds mean but it's true.

So, instead of making everything worse and further tainting my relationship to my friends, I avoided them like a plague. They, in turn, were very much inclined to return the favour. I don't know why I get rather insufferable towards other people when I'm passionate on doing something, it's just... me. I don't know why they don't get how much I want to have that position but maybe they would never do. They are not a Muggle-born like me, after all. Only having a Muggle-born in that blasted council could assure me and other Muggle-borns alike, the fair treatment we most certainly deserve. So, I have to get it. Ron formulated alternatives for me, ways that would insure Muggle-borns' fair and just treatment without me arse-licking (Ron's terminology never cease to make me cringe.) each Wizengamot member to secure the position. I dismissed all of it, of course. I have my own method and I am following them.

I know Ron's only looking after me. After the Malfoy Manor incident, he took it upon himself to make sure I am safe and that I am treated well. I am and would always be grateful on him for that. But I admit, though it's nice and all, I feel like I am bit suffocated every time he goes all knight-ish to me. I love Ron with all my heart but I am not a damsel in distress, for crying out loud!

But Ron is Ron. One thing you'll find endearing in him is his protective nature. But I am who I am, though it's nice to be protected, I am capable of protecting myself, thank you very much.

Everyone says that we are polar opposites. While, I believe that opposite do attracts, I also know that sometimes our differences can torn us apart. And that exactly what just happened a while ago. We were torn apart.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi. Thank you for the nice reviews. I re-read the previous chapter and realized that the break up's a bit tame. So, I decided to make it a bit extreme. I was watching Romione videos on Youtube prior to writing this chapter and then I saw the Yule Ball scene, so I decided to incorporate (is that the right word?) it in this chapter. I hope this chapter won't upset or disappoint people that much.

I would like to apologize first to any observable error in grammar, improper use of terms, etc., since I am not a native English speaker. I very much encourage any corrections regarding that though. I realized that this chapter is too long that I didn't do a thorough editing because I think it's pretty tiring, so sorry. And, please, please, drop me a review. Thank you.

 **Disclaimer** : Everything is J.K.R's, guys. J.K.R's.

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Two months. It's been over two agonizing months since Ron and I parted ways. I admit that it was hard. It was hard going home in an empty, silent flat, making food just for myself, lying alone in a large bed with no one to cuddle with. It was hard but I am surviving.

Yes, there are times where I allow myself to succumb on bouts of regret and grief. I keep on replaying that night in my head and tried to analyze every single detail that concluded our three-year long relationship. Maybe, it was my fault but I'm sure Ron's also partially to blame. It takes two to tango after all, right? Maybe if I tell people what really happened they would somehow understand my reasoning of ending things between us, right? 'Maybes' and 'what ifs', they sure can make one turn crazy. So many alternative endings, an entirely different ending could've happened if you just did the right (or wrong) thing.

I think I did the right thing –ending things between Ron and me, that is.

When I told my co-workers about Ron and how long we've been together, a few of them raised their eyebrows and expressed their disapproval. When I asked them about it, their answers plagued me with doubt and apprehensions. They asked me if I was sure that Ron is really the one, or I'm just convincing myself because I'm afraid to get out of my comfort zone (which is Ron) and risk breaking my heart, that maybe the notion of being alone for a while scares me that I settle myself with Ron –not that Ron isn't amazing to be with, mind you. They told me that I should experiment, to broaden my horizon, to meet other people. And, then after that if I'd still want to be with Ron, maybe that's the time I could really say that he's the one for me.

I, of course, told them that they were being silly and announced that I was sure that Ron was the one for me. Their opinion that time seemed outrageously undesirable but it doesn't mean that I didn't consider it. I, after all, love hearing external opinions and ideas about certain matters and then think and analyze it.

In the muggle world, there's a subject called 'Science' which aimed to satisfy and answer the curiosity of man. Certain steps and methods are done to test a question or idea by making observations and doing experiments. Under Science is Mathematics and under Mathematics is Statistics. In basic stat, there's a statistical hypothesis testing in which two data sets are compared and a hypothesis is proposed for the relationship between the two data sets, and this is compared as an alternative to an idealized null hypothesis.

So, let's say that my null hypothesis is: Ron is not the one for me. And, the alternative would then be: Ron is the one for me. The null hypothesis is generally assumed to be true until evidence indicates otherwise. So, by doing this I should test my null hypothesis to know if whether I should accept it or reject it. And this could only be done if Ron and I part ways and if fate brought us back together again then I would know that I should reject my null hypothesis and accept the alternative which is Ron is the one for me.

Funny how a simple idea can turn or change everything you believe into something different, how an idea could start or sow doubt to a once firm belief.

Maybe, that's what the real reason that I ended things with Ron is. I started doubting if we really are meant to be or we just made ourselves believe or the war rather made us believe that we indeed are for each other. Of course, I just can't tell Ron this, I can even imagine the indignant protest from him if I suggested it to him (Hey, Ron. I think we should really make sure if we really are for each other. Maybe, we can sort of split up then if we found each other along the road again then maybe we can really be sure that we indeed are, what do you think?), just imagine the verbal violence Ron could formulate, sometimes by just imagining it, I can't help but laugh.

Maybe due to the pent up curiosity and doubt that I started looking on everything Ron's doing to a negative light. His protectiveness, for example, was misinterpreted by me to be a form of restrainment. His willingness to help me that he started to give me ideas and alternative ways in his aim to shelter me from being oppressed and hurt was taken as an insult to my intellect and abilities.

And then I realized that Ron would never get the hint and I should just do it. It would also keep us from hurting each other more. So, I did it. I ended us. It's just that now that I finally did it I'm not really sure if I did the right thing. But only time could tell, right?

Things are now progressing. I just knew it. I can feel it within me that they're finally considering me to be the newest member of the Wizengamot. Then Katherine Edwards happened.

Katherine was a Beuxbatons graduate and is considered to be the cleverest witch there. She's British so she decided to work here.

I know when it comes to our intellectual capabilities; I'll have a far more edge than her. No, it's not that that bothers me. It's the fact that she's a Pureblood witch. _A Pureblood witch! Would you believe that?_ So, I don't know why I still got surprised to know that the majority of the council seemed to take favour on her. When Percy told me, though a bit begrudgingly, to make sure that my presentation would be more astonishing than it normally was, I panicked.

The first time I saw her, though, was what nailed my indescribable hate towards her. I still don't know during that time that we're going to be competitors. There's a few others wanting the spot as well but it is her I am keener on competing with. Want to know why? Because the witch is interested to my Ron!

It was the first month since Ron and I broke up. And, I'm feeling kind of sad and I know I miss him. So, I decided to see him, not see him like see him per se. I've decided to pay Harry a visit and since his cubicle is just opposite of Ron's, I'd be able to catch a glimpse of him without him noticing. That's a bit sneaky of me, I know, but what can I do? The heart wants what the heart wants. I was feeling a bit silly for doing such frivolity during that time and for some reason unbeknownst to me it actually made me feel happy, like happy in its utmost sense. But to my surprise, there sitting across Ron inside his cubicle was an attractive, sexy, blonde witch. They were chatting merrily like they were long lost friends trying to catch up with each other. I would have believed that if I didn't know better. Ron never had a friend I didn't know, 'cause he made sure to introduce me to everyone he knows, and he never had an attractive friend like her before (with the exception of Fleur and her sister, Gabrielle, of course).

The first time I laid my eyes on her, I could've sworn that she's a part Veela. Only she wasn't. I know because Ron wasn't drooling over her, just speaking to her like his usual self. But what got my brain in a haywire and made me entirely irrational –that I was sure if glares could wield thunder bolts, Ron and that witch would've dropped dead that instant –was the fact that Katherine was flirting with Ron. _She's flirting with Ron!_ She was not and would never be allowed to flirt with him. Yet, she dared? Ha!

When I remember that little scene I can't help but applaud myself for restraining myself –though it took every single tranquil fibre of my being to do so – from doing something I know I would deeply regret like dragging that girl out of the Auror's office by grabbing that irritatingly silky hair of hers so hard until I'm assured that her hair follicles are damaged enough her hair would fell off and would then be just a long, distant memory.

Harry told me a day after that that he was sure as he stood there watching me glaring daggers at the oblivious couple that I am going to combust if he'd let me stay there for a bit longer, because I was so red of anger that he knew he needed to do something. Then, the next thing I knew he was dragging me out of the place and I can't feel but be grateful for him because I wasn't sure how long would it take that my fake collected demeanour would finally break that would then result to the execution of all the morbid thought running rampant in my mind that time.

Several weeks after that though, a rumour spread inside the ministry that Ron and Katherine like each other and is now considering on taking their alleged budding relationship to another level but is just trying their best to keep it a secret. The then just a ministry gossip made its way to the Daily Prophet and for some unknown reason, everyone were now labelling them as the 'Wizarding World's Secret lovers'. _Secret lovers, my arse_! They're not trying to keep their relationship a secret because there's nothing to keep secret in the first place. And just because they both have the same favourite food, same favourite Quidditch team, same birthdays, same fondness in chess and just because they are alike in so many ways doesn't mean they're meant to be. How did the Prophet knew these things anyway? I doubt they're even true to begin with. And what about the 'Golden Couple' rubbish that they used to label us then, was that ancient history now? And why are they so fond of Katherine anyway? Yes, she's extremely pretty and that she came from a powerful Pureblood family that were philanthropists, but why was there a sudden mania towards her? Why does she seem too good to be true, too perfect to be real? I swear there's something dodgy about her. And I'm going to save Ron from any future danger she might inflict.

And that is why we were now eating together in the ministry cafeteria with Harry. Well, I kind of forced Harry to be my accomplice to convince Ron to have our lunch together. I know Ron would try to find an excuse not to go if ever he'll knew that I'll be joining them. So after a cleverly thought plan and rather brilliant execution – _Tadaa_! –we were now _awkwardly_ having our lunch together.

"Well," Harry drawled, seemingly uncomfortable to the deafening silence and awkward ambiance and is very much eager to break the tension around us. "How was your day, Ron?"

Ron stared at him suspiciously for awhile then answered, "Uh, er, it was fine, I guess."

"How about yours, Hermione?" I heard Harry asked me the same question.

"Well, it was good!" I answered a bit too shrilly for my liking and with a far more eager tone. Ron looked at me curiously, as if trying to search something that is oddly out of place. I raised my chin defiantly at him, challenging him to figure out my rather cunning plan.

I saw him heaved a sigh and shook his head then turned his gaze to Harry. "Oh, by the way Harry, Katherine told me to congratulate you for arresting Macnair."

At the mention of Katherine's name my mind just suddenly clouded with fury. "Oh, Katherine? I'm surprised she hasn't asked you to call her Kath-Kath yet."

I watched as Ron looked at me in surprise and confusion, "What's your problem?"

"If you don't know," I said with a withering glare, "I'm not going to tell you. Besides, all you have to do is think and put two and two together then you'll know the answer. Come on, think! It's not that hard, Ronald!"

"Hermione, what –?"

"You're a war hero!" I spat. "And she's competing against me! Can't you see that she's just trying to use you?... she's using you to get everyone to like her during the Public Presentation and to get the majority of votes of the Wizengamot members by using you and the Pureblood couple facade. You –you're fraternizing with the enemy, that's what you're doing!"

Ron's mouth fell open, he looked at Harry quizzically who shrugged then back at me with an incredulous expression.

"Fraternizing with the enemy?" Ron said with an awed disbelief in his tone, "Don't be stupid, Hermione! Isn't it you who lectured me about not judging people by your first impression of them? Isn't it you who told me to give everyone a fair chance of knowing? Practice what you preach, Hermione. And, where did you get that 'she's trying to use you' bullshite anyway? Besides, I don't think it's wrong to help someone who just transferred here to adjust and get familiar with stuff and have new friends."

I chose to ignore the first part of his diatribe and focused on the latter. "Friends? Can you believe him, Harry? Are you really that thick, Ronald? Do you really believe she just want to be your friend? Why do I have this feeling that she likes you and is trying to get you to like her back? I s'pose she already confessed that to you."

"Well, what if she did?" Ron snapped which made me feel like I've been punched hard in the gut. "What is it to you?"

"Wha-what? –trying to get her in your collections of blondes to fawn over then – Rosmerta, Fleur, Lavender and then now Kath-Kath – were you?"

"No, I wasn't! When did I ever do that –collections of blondes?" Ron half-shouted in outrage. "Really, Hermione? Every single one you mentioned, with the exception of Lavender, was all just my friends. And, in fact, Katherine told me that it's okay for her for us to be just good friends. And stop calling her Kath-Kath, will you?"

"Well –that's what Kath-Kath likes you to believe."

"And what was that supposed to mean?"

"I've already told you, haven't I? She's just trying to use you. And, can't you see it? She's too good to be true. I'm sure there's some hidden agenda about her being 'friends' with you. I'm just looking out for you."

"What? Is that what you really think, Hermione?" Ron asked me with deep loathing in his voice, "That I can't have pretty girls noticing me and wanting to be my friend without getting something in return? Well, thanks for the faith, Hermione."

"What?" I shouted that make the people around the cafeteria to start staring at us. "You know that's not true! You know how highly I think of you, Ron. I just don't understand why you're acting like this and why can you not see that I care about you that's why I'm doing this. What should I do to make you side on me with this?"

"You want to know what the solution is, don't you?" Ron said with a mysterious tone.

"Go on! Let's hear what that is then."

"Next time, make up your mind. It's either you want me beside you or you don't." Ron said with a soft and gentle tone. "There's no in between, Hermione. Now, tell me, Hermione, if you still love me or not. Tell me you love me and I'd go back and we'd fix everything. And, if you don't –that if you no longer want me –then stop giving off mixed signals and stop hindering me from moving on."

I was taken aback by the sudden change of Ron's demeanour and his last statement suddenly filled me with dread. "M-move on? What are you talking about? Are you moving on with that –that hag?"

"What?" Ron asked, confused and somewhat disappointed. "I don't know what you're talking about and please, Hermione, let's not resort on name calling, can we?"

"You're even defending her!" I wailed, much to Ron's befuddlement. If someone would tell me that I would be acting like Lavender used to back in sixth-year, I probably would've rolled my eyes at them. But, here I was acting just exactly the same. Maybe, there's really a tendency for someone to act irrational and clingy to someone they love so much if they'd feel that that someone is slowly drifting away from them. 'Drifting away? Didn't you just drove him away yourself like two months ago?' a voice in the back of my head taunted but I'm far too lost in my irrational ire to listen."You can't date her! We've just broke up. You can't date somebody else that fast. That's like a... an unwritten rule of breaking up."

"What? Hermione, you're actually no longer making any sense. An unwritten rule of what? Funny, I never heard of that rule before." Ron said, amused, which further incensed my fury.

"Yes, that rule exists, Ronald!" I insisted, though I don't know if there's actually a rule about such. "Its how you show your respect to someone you had been with for a long time. You give them time to actually move on before you go committing yourself to another relationship. We've been together for three years, Ron. You can't just date someone else that fast, like that three years didn't happen! Respect, Ron, respect! But, of course, you wouldn't know that, would you?"

"Uh, guys, let's just take this somewhere private, please. People are staring," I heard Harry plead, but we pay him no heed.

"Oh, that's rich coming from you, Hermione!" Ron seethed. "You're talking about respect? You're actually lecturing me about respect? Ha! Please, Hermione, don't make yourself more hypocrite than you already are. And, you're actually bringing up our three-year relationship. You actually dare? Tell me, who was it who decided to break up with me because they find their job much more important than me? All my life I've always been second best. You know that, but did you care? No! Did you hear me complain when I constantly need to compete with your job in your list of priorities? No! Just a fucking job yet I still got second. But I swallowed my pride and told myself that it's fine as long as I'm with you. But, what did you do? You just went ahead and decided to break my heart like I'm a worthless piece of shite! You know what? I'm done." Ron announced then turned to look at Harry, who looked crestfallen like he was witnessing his parents' divorce. "Harry, I'll just... just see you later then?"

I stay seated there looking at Ron in stunned disbelief. I watched as Harry awkwardly nodded at him as he stood up and turned to leave. Did I really prioritize my job over him? I actually don't know. Maybe, he's right. Maybe, I didn't know the answer because I forgot to care. I stood up and followed him. I don't want him to think that he's just second best to me. He was the man I love, how could he think that way?

I called his name as I follow his wake but it seemed like he's walking faster. I increased my pace so I can catch up to him but it feels like I'm doing no progress. I can feel Harry tailing us, ready to be our referee in case our fight got out of hand. We're now walking on an empty hallway and I find myself getting frustrated and annoyed. Then the logical part of me just shut off as my irritation and frustration increased. I was hurt, indignant, disappointed, angry and frustrated all at the same time.

"Ron!" I shouted. "Ron, I said stop." I tried again but he still continues to walk away and my anger double up by this. "Oh, go on! Leave! Just walk away! Just walk away like you always do. That's what you're good at, right? Leaving me."

That seemed to get the job done. Ron froze in his track enabling me to catch up to him. I heard Harry let out a growl of frustration and disapproval and started cussing under his breath. Ron turned and rounded on me so fast that I have to step back a bit. I don't know if I'm actually going crazy but when I saw Ron seething in rage, face fierce, and in close proximity with me, I can't help but feel a bit pervy. Maybe, our friends are right after all, that rowing is our form of foreplay. I did my best to restrain myself from throwing myself at him and just snog him senseless. But, my face fell when I noticed the hurt in Ron's eyes. I know I just made an irreversible mistake.

"You know I regretted that day and would probably regret it for the rest of my life, Hermione. But, do you have to always punish me on something I can't possibly change? What happened to the 'I forgive you' shit? Did you even forgive me for real? You can't keep on punishing me for the mistakes that the teenage me committed... You know what? I think you're right. Maybe, it's better this way. Maybe, we weren't really meant for each other."

I know I still have a bit of a power to stop us from hurting each other any further. Ron just told me earlier that if I'd just tell him I love him, he's very much willing to forget everything and start anew. But, I don't know if this is true anymore. I know I struck a nerve and I know Ron's sensitive about this topic. But that's the funny thing about love, isn't it? It twists your brain and turns you into a vicious beast.

Many men tried to give love an apt definition. But nothing seems fitting enough to cover the entire vastness of love. But let me add some of mine to the pile. Love is both a dreadful and blissful phenomena. It turns brave men into cowards; cowards into valiant knights; intelligent men into imbeciles; saints into sinners; and sinners into saints.

I didn't know when the tears started to stream down my face. I just felt something wet. I'm sure I look like an absolute mess right now. But, I didn't really care about that. I just stood there as he finally walk away and leave me and out of my life for good.

If love is based on logic, everything would be far easier for me. But a great mathematician named Blaise Pascal once quoted, "The heart has its reasons of which reason knows nothing." So no logical explanation could be drawn on why I just stayed there, bawling, instead of doing the most logical thing to do which is to go after Ron and try to fix things once and for all. Maybe, it was my pride that hinders me from doing so. I hate being wrong after all, and going after Ron would need me admitting that I made a mistake, that I was wrong. I'm used to people telling me I'm the cleverest they ever knew but now I can't help but feel otherwise.


	3. Chapter 3

Hi. This is not a good chapter but I think it's a bit necessary for the story. So, sorry. And, if ever there are French people reading this I would like to say sorry beforehand for the improper use of the language though it's kind of not a big deal really and I guess Google should also be partially blamed for this. Sorry for the observable error in grammar and the like (I didn't do a thorough editing. Do I need to get a beta? How? Where?). Lol, did a lot of apologizing, didn't I?

And I would like to extend my deepest thanks to **notsing** and **JeanAndBilius** for all the nice reviews (and to the other reviewers as well). You two should seriously try considering doing/forming an exclusive Romione group, if such thing is possible. I see you on various Romione stories, extending your support and honest reviews and it feels really nice especially to those who were just new on writing. And, I think it encourages others to write as well. 'Cause seriously, Romione fics are starting to lessen and it's kind of bothering me. LOL

 **Disclaimer :** Everything is JK Rowling's.

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"Hi, I'm Katherine."

 _What is she doing here?_ I rolled my eyes, tried to stifle a groan of annoyance, then fixed my face before looking up from the parchment I'm scribbling important notes on and looked up at Katherine, offering her a big, fake smile.

"Oh, hello, I'm Hermione."

"Oh, I know who you are. Friend of Harry Potter; Brain of the Operation: defeat Voldemort and _blah blah blah_ ," Katherine informed playfully.

I reddened at this, embarrassed and pleased. "Oh."

Katherine smiled that annoying charming smile of hers. "I see you're pretty busy. I guess it'd be pretty tiring –the Wizengamot Public Presentation, I mean."

"Yes, I believe you're right," I agreed.

I offered her a seat, which she took appreciatively.

"I guess you'd do it with flying colours, though. I, on the other hand, have to double up my effort to actually endure the public's scrutiny and be deemed a worthy candidate," Katherine sighed anxiously.

Why is she suddenly talking to me as if we're friends? I tried my best not to unleash the green-eyed monster seething within me and acted like the civil, refine woman I was thought to be. I remembered about the gossips I've read in the Daily Prophet and decided to pry and find out whether those were true or not without being obvious.

"So, I've read in the Prophet that you're a fan of Quidditch –more specifically the Chudley Cannons –is it true?" I've asked curiously, choosing a safe topic first.

"Uh, I think not. Ron just introduced me to them. Not really a fan of Quidditch, you see. But, I find it rather interesting. And, the look on Ron's face when he talk about it with such fervour –", she sighed, redolent, and a bit too fondly for my liking, "–so adorable, that man."

"I think the term you are looking for is fanatic. He's extremely obsessed with them, that if obsession could be equivalent to a miracle, the Cannons could've won by now," I said shrewdly.

"Well, that he is," said Katherine. "It almost made me regret not trying to learn about the sport more. Almost."

"Oh, so you're not into sports then, I take it," I said, arching a brow quizzically.

"No, not really, but, I'm into chess. In Beuxbatons, we've got this 'minor sport' called Échecs: Vraie Vie. It's like a real life game of chess. Teams, consisting of 16 students, would need to assign each member to be a chess piece. Traditionally, the team's captain, who's the main tactician and strategy-planner, would take the role as the Roi –that's the King. So he or she can continue on firing off instructions to the team and on figuring out how to win the game till the end, since those who we're already out of the board can no longer participate and would then be put in the sideline, just watching the game."

"Oh, that's interesting," I said in an uninterested tone. Frankly, I've never been into chess or any sports at that. But, I somehow felt obliged to keep on asking as Katherine clearly looks so eager to talk about the subject and for the sake of having some knowledge about it. "How does it work, then? I mean, is there any changes in the mechanics of the game?"

"Oh, no, none at all, It's pretty much the same, except it's a real life experience of sorts and is pretty gory," Katherine said, chuckling almost to herself.

"Gory? How do you mean?" I asked, my curiosity being piqued.

"During the game you are to wear a special uniform of what chess piece you're going to be. Then, an especially charmed metal rod would be given to each member that they are allowed to transfigure into any kinds of blade. You also need to wear a charmed, fleshy gear in your throat, which the opponent will slash if you're about to be taken off the board."

"Your school allows such violence?" I exclaimed in outrage.

Katherine laughed at this, as if I was being silly, which made my face contort into utter indignation. "Relax, Hermione. It just aims to spice up the game. That's what makes the game more exciting, 'sides it's as if you weren't acquainted to Wizard Chess at all. When you know your team mates –though technically it's not really going to happen –going to be slashed in the throat, plus you have to consider the time limit for each turn to move, and the aim to win the game. You have to be wise and a good tactician under pressure. That's why I never get to be a captain."

"Oh."

"Yeah, told Ron about it once. You should've seen his face." Katherine informed fondly.

"That, I can imagine. He's really good at chess," I said truthfully.

"Shame the game isn't played at Hogwarts."

"Oh, no, no, I think the regular Wizard Chess is barbaric enough, thank you very much." I objected.

"I guess, what I've heard from the other Ministry employees are true then," Katherine said meaningfully.

"What is that, may I ask?" I demanded.

"That you're uptight and a no-fun," answered Katherine in a matter-of-fact tone, her demeanour changing, and was now eying me with an arched brow, as if inspecting something. "I know this may sound mean, but, I really don't get what Ron saw in you. Yes, you are clever and you are pretty. But, I don't understand why he has to take a dangerous mission just to be able to move on. You clearly doesn't love him enough. But, well, as one of my new muggle friend said, one man's trash is another man's treasure."

"How dare you!" I snapped, standing up brusquely; ready to unleash my wrath, "Are you saying that I've treated Ron like a trash? Well, guess what? You know nothing!"

"Oh, come on. You can deny all you want. Think about it, if you haven't treated him like a trash, would you, with all your cleverness, ever throw away a treasure?"

I don't know why I've got speechless. It's as if my mind got suddenly useless, which is a rather rare thing to happen. I'm sure I haven't, in no way or form, treated Ron like a trash. Yes, we fought and hurt each other in the process. But it was our way of venting out our bottled up feeling for each other. Funny how people judge a relationship, our relationship for that matter, by nitpicking our bad traits, our differences, our shortcomings and mistakes and then draw their rather biased conclusion of who did wrong, who's bad and who doesn't deserve who. It's as if a patch of grass could fully describe the magnificent view offered by a meadow.

"Shut up!" I shouted, "Get out of here!"

"Gladly," said Katherine with a ferocious tone.

I watched –glared more like –her get up and turned to leave. But, Katherine halted midway and faced me again with a smug smirk plastered on her lips.

"You know what? I actually came here to thank you. Thank you for breaking his heart. Now other women, more deserving women at that, will have the opportunity to nurse it and make him feel the love he most definitely deserves."

"And are you insinuating that you'd be that woman? You're just friends!"

"Oh, we're just friends, alright. Just friends –" she said then walked towards the door then faced me again with a victorious smirk on her lips, "–for now."

I stood there as she exited out of my office, feeling like all the happiness in the world has been drained out by dementors. I am afraid. I'm afraid that Katherine would win, that she'll get Ron eventually. That Ron would actually move on with her. Then what would happen to me?

I don't know why I am feeling this way though. Isn't it I who thought that it would be better for us to separate? That we should try to meet other people? Why is it that now Ron's finally trying to do the very thing does I found myself resenting him for doing so? I thought he said he love me or is it more appropriate to say he loved me? I certainly hope not.

When it's time to go home, I walked from the ministry to our –my –flat. I refuse to apparate or floo for now I find it rather dreading to go home in a lonely house. It's as if Ron brought with him the warmth and comfort that our flat used to offer.

It seems like fate is taunting me as I started my trek. It seems like everyone is walking by pairs or by group, laughing and obviously having the time of their lives, as if mocking me that they are with someone and are happy while I'm not. That I am alone and unloved. That I'm stupid to let go a treasure I should've tried my best to keep.

I saw a pair of birds along the way, just a few blocks away from my flat. I decided to look at them for a while and as I saw them chirping and looking like they don't care about the world that their world is with each other. I felt a sudden pang of envy and found myself shouting at the innocent creatures. Telling them that one of them would be doubtful, then that doubt will soon tore them apart, that there's no such thing as forever, that they'll end up like me, alone and miserable.

After the irrational scene, I found myself entering my flat in an embittered state.

As I was eating, I found myself talking to a photograph of Ron I've put in the middle of the table. It was a photograph I took during our second anniversary. Ron was scowling –disliking the idea of me taking a photo of him, I pleaded and used my charm on him to convince him that it would be nice to have a photo of us together and individually as remembrance of that rather romantic day on the beach –then shook his head and then flashed me an amused and mischievous grin.

"What does she see in you anyway? Does she know how loud you snore? How bad your eating habits are?" I asked bitterly, pointing my fork threateningly on Ron's photograph, which was now shaking his head.

"Does she know you're afraid of spiders? Does she know about your scars and the story behind them? Does she know about your insecurities? Your likes and dislikes? Would she love you like I do?"

I don't know why I started sobbing. This is getting ridiculous. When will the pain stop? Or will it ever stop? I looked at Ron's photograph and saw him scowling at me.

"I know!" I shouted at the photograph, "It's my fault, alright."

Then that night, still in a bitter state, I've decided that if Ron is trying to move on, so should I.


	4. Chapter 4

Hi. I've done my research about the Wizarding law and all the other stuff relating to it. Then I've found out that they don't have a specific legislative department, just judiciary (i.e. Wizengamot) and executive (i.e. Minister of Magic). What I understood is that every department could propose a law and that it is up to the high court (which is the Wizengamot) if they would approve it or whatever. And, apparently, though I'm not quite sure, they can alter, make or even dismiss a law. So, for the sake of this story, let's assume it's true. Since, I am not sure how the elections and how wizarding politics run in general, I've settled to the idea that I would have to just make up stuff. I am not really familiar on politics, so should any weird or implausible events and whatnot happen, it was entirely products of my own ignorant mistakes. Suggestions and corrections are highly encouraged.

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And also, I've been trying to find a beta but sadly I haven't found one yet, so the grammar would still be horrible. Sorry.

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"Don't you think that's a bit impractical?"

I shot an annoyed look at Mrs. Hewitt, my Wizengamot member adviser, feeling affronted from her remark. She might have sensed my indignation as she hurriedly tried to justify her statement, clearing her throat as she did so.

"I mean wouldn't it be more practical for you to create a bill that would cover or tackle more important matters –oh, no, no, please don't be offended. I didn't mean to sound like I was belittling your –oh, just –whatever! I'd be frank with you, Ms. Granger. I think that a law about House-elves' freedom from whatever nonsense you were saying –oh, yes, there, I'll say it –it's pure nonsense. No need to give me that look! I am just trying to help you to come up with something that would help you get the position without the major party thwarting your opportunity to get it, and this is not helping things. You're making yourself a primary, visible threat to the status quo and you know how those who are in position don't like that."

"Well, Mrs. Hewitt," I said with a tone that sounded a bit more harsh than what I've intended. "You told me not to propose a law for Muggle-born rights, saying about jeopardizing my already blurry chance for a vote amongst those Pureblood extremist members –oh, no, don't look surprised by my words! I know they are extremists. I know I have a little to no chance for a vote from them but I listened to you anyway when you told me to be a good, docile sycophant towards them –which is against my principles, but still I've listened to you. But where did it lead me? Nowhere; and don't even suggest to me again about that nonsensical stuff you were suggesting me to propose instead. I know I can't propose a law for Muggle-borns yet, but it doesn't mean I can't help other helpless and oppressed beings. I don't care about what they'll say. It's time for me to put my foot down and things shall change right now!"

"Oh, my dear, dear, child, you know nothing, nothing at all," mocked Mrs. Hewitt, wisps and tendrils of white hair that had escaped her loose French twist, swaying, as she shake her head at me in mock pity. "What will you do then? Of course, you will no longer listen to me now, will you? You'd go on with that stupid plan of yours, thinking that you're all mighty and clever now just 'cause you've survived a war, fighting in the front line. Of course, of course, you and that boy-who-lived and that youngest boy of Arthur, you all think you're better than everyone here –than _us_ –well, my child, let me tell you this, that is not how it works. Now, don't get yourself thinking we're not grateful for your efforts. Of course, we are. But politics is a completely different battle. You always have to think like a Slytherin if you want in."

"What do you mean, Mrs. Hewitt? Do you actually want me to be a deceptive snake like most members of the council? Well, sorry but no, thank you," I countered fiercely. I will get the position with my skills and knowledge and not by deception. I just couldn't understand why it's been an unwritten rule in politics –whether it's muggle or magical –that in order to win a political position means you have to be an allegiance-shamming person and a farce, "aren't you tired of all the two-faced witches and wizards you're sharing fake smiles and pleasantries with? Of constantly watching your back wondering who from your supposed allies would stab you from behind because the opposing party have got them to turn their backs on you? Of all the injustice and despair of the people and beings alike because the people who're supposed to lead and protect them chose to be selfish and have turned their backs on them because it would serve them more good and ensure the satisfaction of their own greedy needs?"

Mrs. Hewitt looked at me and smirked, removing her round spectacles and conjuring a cloth to wipe its lenses, seemingly unfazed by my rant. She looked at me pointedly, lips upturned a little in a bittersweet smile. "Tell me, Ms. Granger, do you really think of me that way? Do you think I'll bother myself guiding and helping you if I don't believe in your cause? I could've let you do whatever you think is right and then watch with glee as you make a fool out of yourself. My mother was a Muggle-born and her situation then was much harder than yours now. I've witnessed her suffer the prejudice towards her 'kind' and have promised myself that I'll do my best to put a stop to that, and that is why I'm here now helping you, 'cause I know if someone would be able to do it, it'd be you."

"And look how exactly you were helping me, Mrs. Hewitt. You wanted me to succumb to the old, dirty ways of the ministry. How can you say to my face that you are on my side?" I demanded with an accusatory tone in my voice.

"Well, dear, you absolutely have no idea, don't you? You think you can start change by flashing your I-helped-kill-You-Know-Who card? You think the system will bend at your will? Sorry, but the answer is no, my dear. Politics is a whole different battlefield –much scarier, much trickier, and much tougher –you wouldn't have any idea who the foes are and who are the ones that can be trusted. You have to think hard if one ally is there to help you, to use you, or to destroy you. This is a game for the tough ones, for unlike You-know-who, who we all know is the enemy, everyone that is involved in this game is wearing appropriate masks to fool you –" I scoffed at this. Honestly? Surely, she hasn't been involved during the war. She obviously doesn't have an ounce of understanding on how hard it had been. Clueless even of the hardships they have endured. And here she was lecturing her that Wizarding Politics is harder than the war itself. _Fantastic_! _Just_. _Great_. " – Tell me do you play chess?"

My brows furrowed, puzzled. "N-no –Yes –not really, I just know a bit. But how is that related to this?"

"How do you win a game?"

"Uh –I don't know. Um –Tactics and strategy –"

"You outwit them. You have to conceal your moves that they wouldn't be able to read it while you have to find a way on how to read theirs and then find a way to make them follow, unknowingly, your strategic plan. You have to control the board. You have to read your opponent's each move and formulate ways to counter it and win. You should be always one step ahead. Always. It's a slow, constant battle of wits but not just that, for unlike chess where you play with an organized and fair set of rules, politics has none. But how will you be able to play the game if you'll not be allowed to play in the first place?"

"Uh –"

"If you are in their shoe, Hermione, would you let a possible opposition in, who have a huge impact and charm to the people? Of course not, you'd do everything in your power to stop them; so, what will you do to enter the chaotic arena of politics? You mould yourself to the system first, and then you start changing it. But, Hermione let me ask you this, are you certain you're ready to be dragged down to the dirty, dark pits of politics? Are you ready to stain your morality and ethics? Are you ready to stoop down on anyone for your cause? Are you ready to turn a blind eye on the despair of someone in favour of another?"

"That is the general perception of many, but it doesn't mean it can't be changed. We, the present generation, should at least try to strive to make it better. I don't understand why everyone views Politics as a dirty game, when it is not, it could be better if only the right leaders are chosen," I rebutted rationally.

"Oh, no, Politics is not a dirty game –it is not at all," said Mrs. Hewitt with a forbearing tone. "It is the ones who play the game you should be blaming for it having its negative view. But how can you chose a better leader if all of the rotten ones disguised and mixed themselves with the good ones? Electing a leader is like selecting a bean from Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Let's assume there are twenty beans in a bag, then there'll be a one in twenty beans probability of selecting a good one or otherwise. And, don't underestimate the overwhelming effect of power to people, they can –"

"Excuse me Mrs. Hewitt," I interjected, interrupting her all too familiar lecture. "I don't mean to be rude, but I already know this stuff that's why I'm here to ignite a start of change to the system. I know I'm on the radical side, but if no one's going to try, then who? When will we start changing the rotten system? When it's already too late? Sorry but I disagree."

Mrs. Hewitt sighed, sounding defeated and exasperated. "Okay, okay, you're right, I'm wrong, my bad. Do what you want; I'll leave you alone," she said, standing up with disappointment etched on her face. As she was about to turn towards the door, she faced me again and with an enigmatic demeanour added, "Just remember: Equality does not equate equity."

I watched as Mrs. Hewitt walked towards the door and left my office. I heaved a sigh of relief and resignation, a bit perplexed about her parting advice but decided to just brush it off. I know Mrs. Hewitt only means well. But I know I am doing the right thing. The last war has ingrained something in me, something akin to passion, the overwhelming urge to protect the likes of me to the best of my abilities, those who are deemed as second-class, inferior citizens.

One thing that hunts me every single night, mostly after the war has just ended, apart from Bellatrix's taunting face while she's torturing me, Ron's departure, and the flashes of nightmares involving the faces of those who I've watched dying during the war, dying all over again in a more horrifying, twisted way, was the petrified and helpless faces of my fellow Muggle-borns, sat huddled on hard wooden benches outside the ministry's courtrooms, awaiting for their verdict, fearing for their lives and worrying for their families. Of those who are on the run because their lives were threatened, struggling each day to survive as Snatchers and Death Eaters hunt them as if they were worthless preys needed to be dispatched and murdered.

I know the war has been won. I know the 'new and improved' ministry administered by Kingsley promises change towards a better world. And, I know I need to contribute to that. So, this is my way of doing it. I'll infiltrate the ministry's judicial branch and start correcting its flaws.

_oo0oo_

The scent of old parchment and books ensconced me in a rather relaxing mood. Easing the irritation away that has got to do with the argument I had earlier at the ministry. I am at Flourish and Blotts, in search for a wizarding book about house-elves' history or anything related to it to help as supporting arguments/details to my bill that I will be presenting during the election proper. After the Wizengamot Public Presentation, where the political aspirants like me will be introduced to the public, follows the selection where the top three candidates shall be revealed, who will be participating the election proper where they will be presenting their bill in front of the High Court itself, where they will also be interrogated thoroughly by the Wizengamot.

This being said, I have spent my time reading about old pureblood laws and traditions, as I was sure I would be questioned about my knowledge about it given that I am of a muggle heritage, as well as creating my bill and making sure to look into its possible loopholes to amend it. I have spent a good few minutes looking over shelves and rows of books in deep concentration; it's as if the argument I've had with Mrs. Hewitt earlier ignited a burning zeal in my heart to work more.

"Let me guess," said a deep voice which made me tore my gaze away from the array of books on the shelves and saw a man my age smiling warmly at me, "you're a solicitor."

I stared at him for a while, annoyed that a random stranger randomly started a random conversation with me.

"Oh, okay, I know you're a solicitor," the man confessed, looking sheepish. "I know who you are. And, yes, I have been watching you for a while now. I'm sorry if that came out weird or creepy. It's just that I don't know how to approach you. I mean, _you're Hermione Granger!"_ the man added in a rush.

I honestly don't know what or how to feel with this sudden confession by a complete stranger. I don't know if I should reach for my wand and banish him to oblivion for being a random creep or play it nicely like the civilized woman that I am.

"Oh, it's fine," I answered, choosing to act like the latter remembering that he might be another 'fan' of mine, what with the Daily Prophet over sensationalizing of whom they have called 'The Golden Trio's' –of which I am a rather significant member –contribution that ended the second wizarding war and have caused them to be overwhelmingly famous around the Wizarding world.

The man sighed, relieved, and beamed at me. I studied his profile and can't deny that this man got the looks. He got a curly, black hair that is a bit long, causing some locks to obscure his brown eyes. He got an average body and height, and wore a casual robe that gives him a boy-next-door vibe.

"I'm Lewis. Lewis Brug," the man, Lewis, said, extending his hands for a handshake which I took politely.

"Hi, er, I'm Hermione but of course you already know that. Uh . . . nice to meet you?" I have to cringe at the last statement for it came out more like a question for I don't know if I actually find it nice to meet and talk to someone whom I know nothing about.

It might have been an after effect of the war. I still feel wary on meeting others and I am by default distrustful on anyone or anything I have no knowledge about. Mad-eye Moody's barking ' _constant vigilance!'_ flashing on my mind.

"Well, it's a pleasure meeting you," Lewis said with a rather giddy grin which I kindly reciprocated with a small smile. "You know what? I'm going to summon all the courage I've got in my body right now for I know chances like this are hard to come by. So . . ." he trailed off while I stared encouragingly at him to continue ". . . I would like to ask you to have a dinner with me some time. Please."

I was taken aback by his rather upfront invitation, not to mention that he was a complete stranger to me. Have I mentioned that he was a stranger? If not, then I'll say it: I know nothing about this man! Except, of course, for his name but other than that, nothing! Should I trust him? What if he's a death eater? _Don't be silly! Why would a death eater ask you for a date anyway?_ But what about Ron? _What about Ron?_ _Isn't he with that blonde-witch-with-much-bigger-boobs-than-her-brain?_ Still.

Sighing, I looked up at him, gentle words of rejection at the tip of my tongue when I paused and wondered on why I shouldn't give him a chance. He really looks like a good man and Ron seemed to have moved on –or in the process of moving on –then why shouldn't I? _Because you still love Ron and it'd be unfair for the man for you to use him._ But, still. I'm allowed to have friends, right? Yes, friends! Just friends, that's it.

"Sure!" I finally said which made a rather jubilant grin to appear on his face. "Why not?"

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 **I know this story is lame but if you decided to stick with me and this story, thank you. Sorry for not updating for a long while, I kinda lost the motivation to write for a while. please do review.**


	5. Chapter 5

Hi. So, I've read the Cursed Child and I don't like it. LOL. Anyway, since my story is hard to adjust so it will coincide with CC, I think it would be better to label this as AU. Grammar mistakes ahead. So, sorry in advance.

 **Disclaimer :** JK Rowling and other various associates owns the cauldron of the HP universe and all known ingredients. I may have stirred it a bit without their permission but I beg you not to tell.

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The Leaky Cauldron was surprisingly stark, save for us and some few loyal patrons who were huddled on a corner and were loudly chattering about either the result of the last Quidditch match between Puddlemere United and Chudley Cannons (which, basing by their dissatisfied tone, was the worst game this season. The Cannons lose horribly yet again.) or – well, most of the conversations were about it – Fiametta's new juicy morsel of exposé about the allegedly illegal potions, though nothing has been proven yet, that has apparently been circulating around the Wizarding World while drowning themselves with a – but, for sure, they were planning to drink some more – bottle of Blishen's Firewhisky.

The pub was oddly empty. It has been rumoured that Tom, the pub's owner, is planning on closing the pub but Hannah Abbott is apparently talking to him, convincing him to just sell the pub to her. Saying that it'd be a shame for future generations not to experience the pub for themselves and that it's literally the entrance to Diagon Alley from the Muggle side of the place. Transactions were still being done. Hence, the less than average numbers of customers this fine night.

"Illegal potions? Is he still on about that? What an utter rubbish article!" I heard a man, with a long grey hair that had an equally long grey beard to match it, said loudly with a patronising laugh.

"But it is said to cause severe paranoia and delusions, can even result to death! I say 'tis kind of alarming and –" answered a scraggly, balding man with a rather sickly appearance.

"Nonsense!" dismissed the old man with the long grey hair, cutting him off. "I say tha's all scaremongering! Make us ought to believe another Dark Lord's on the rise. Scare us, then make us panic, then – Boom! – chaos."

"Why do you reckon there's a Dark Lord? The articles just talk about some big time group behind all this. Nothing about any Dark Lord rising!" interjected another man; this one's a bit younger with an obvious receding hairline.

"That's it, innit? Behind a group's a leader." I heard the old man with long grey hair answered back with a 'eureka' kind of tone.

"So?" Asked another man; this one's got a dark shade of blonde mane with some wayward grey hair, obviously not getting the other man's assessment.

"So? So, that's it! Just your usual requirements to be a Dark Lord!" the man with the long grey hair answered, raising a hand in the air for emphasis. He looks a bit scandalized that the others still haven't gotten his point. "You ought to have a group or an army and a dark vision and mission."

"Er," said the balding man, scratching his head, with a dubious expression. "I don' think there's any Dark Lord, Ringo. Just illegal potioneers maybe, but a Dark Lord? Nah! Don' think so."

"And why's that?" challenged the man with long grey hair, who's apparently called Ringo.

"Dark Lords got a bit of an ego, y'know? This –" he answered motioning towards the copy of the Quibbler lying on top of their table. "–are just a band of sneaky, petty criminals doing illegal activities that ought to be stop."

"Nah!" dismissed the man with the long grey hair again with an annoyed scoff. "I say to you, tha's pure bullshite! Just for scaring people, nothing to worry about. And, 'sides the fact that it's on the Quibbler, there's no such thing like an illegal potion. No law states that."

"None?" asked the man with blonde hair in disbelief.

The man with long grey hair nodded his affirmation, his expression suddenly turning glum. "Got a mate named Tyler. During the war, someone abducted and tortured him. He thought t'was Snatchers at first, which he found odd since he's no muggleborn. But, he figured, they were probably just having some fun and he was the poor victim. But then he found out it was someone he got into some fight with. The sick fucker wasn't even content on beating him. He plucked some of his hair, put it on a polyjuice potion and went on sexually abusing random women. My mate got jailed after the war then for he can't defend himself without proof and the surviving victims were so keen on putting him on prison. He just figured who it was that had stolen his identity and did those horrible crimes because the mothe'fucker left his prized watch on the floor where he was tortured. The day where he was to defend himself on court, though, he was found dead. Hitwizards claimed t'was suicide but we just know it isn't the case. We know him. He won't let himself be dead without clearing his name. But the worse thing was that he can only defend himself against the cases filed against him but he can't file a case against the man who had stolen his identity!"

"Merlin, those old blokes should've raised their voices a bit higher so that the whole Diagon Alley could hear their li'l chitchat, shouldn't they?" I heard Lewis complained sarcastically in a low voice.

Fully engrossed was I with the ongoing conversation of the old men a few tables away from ours that I almost forgot that he was with me. I was forced to stop my eavesdropping and turned my attention to him. He looked quite annoyed and was looking at the men with disdain.

"You sure you still want to eat here? We can transfer somewhere else. Somewhere that's a bit posh, perhaps? This place looks like it needs a week of intense scrubbing and a lot of cleaning charms."

"No, this place's fine." I objected gently.

"Are you sure?" he asked again, looking like he desperately wants to be out of the place this instant. "I mean, this place doesn't look even a bit safe to serve food."

"Yes, I'm sure. This place's fine, don't you worry." I noticed that he looked like he wasn't at all convinced, eyeing the place with a disgusted grimace, but thankfully hasn't said anything back.

My eyes caught an abandoned copy of Quibbler, lying stagnant on a nearby table next to ours. I reached up and picked the paper. It probably is an old copy, basing on its worn cover. My curiosity got the better of me about Fiametta's new exposé and begun on searching for his or her article – which, I believe, was his or her third one.

Fiametta, a pseudonym used by the still unknown writer, has been writing for months now about these illegal potions that apparently have detrimental consequences to one's health once taken for a prolonged span of time. Ron had claimed, months ago, that as long as no law established that'll restrict people from brewing potions, illegal or not, the Hitwizards can't do anything about it. Citing an instance where they (though he insisted that it was really just me and that they were just going along with my barmy, albeit brilliant, ideas.) brewed potions that were mostly used for _"not really legal"_ purposes. I argued that making such laws or restrictions would be quite tricky, for people would then question what can be defined as legal or not. Since, most of them were thought to brew potions at school that could be used for either right or wrong reasons. So, it'd be somehow hard to impose since it would be difficult to define if a potion is illegal or not without knowing the intended purpose of the user beforehand. Harry then chimed in and said that since the war was now finally over, we should start looking out for one another and start on banning or restricting anything that are potentially dangerous to anyone, if not everyone, which Ginny agreed with a vigorous nod. She said that wizards and witches should at least seek approval from the authorities before brewing, inventing, distributing and whatnot any concocted potions and that there should be a new, strict regulatory guidelines to follow.

Skimming through the pages where I flipped through an article about the apparent uprising of the Blibbering Humdingers, secret uses of the Crumpled-Horned Snorkacks and the illegal trades involving the poor creatures and other ministry related conspiracy theories. I finally found the article wrote by the infamous Fiametta, written in angry, bold letters: " _ **Potion Trading: Decoding Illegal Transactions!"**_

"You're reading that rubbish?" Lewis said incredulously.

"Yes," I answered, and with a raised eyebrow asked, "problem?"

"Well, yes," he said. "You ought to know better than to read such garbage, just saying."

And with that I decided to tuck it away inside my briefcase instead, which earned an incredulous shake of the head from Lewis, which I pretended not to notice.

* * *

. . .

Why? Why did I allow myself to be in this position? Lewis is looking expectantly at me now. Probably assuming that this is the moment where I would finally allow him to, _Merlin forbid_ , copulate with me! An involuntary shudder crept up my back by the thought.

Sure, we've kissed before, and that he sure does look good, not to mention, he's quite witty as well. We've been sort of dating for over a month now. No definite relationship that I have any recollection agreeing upon had been established, but the Prophet somehow managed to gather information about this particular status of my dating life and went on publishing it on the paper after not having any news about the soon to be wedded couple: Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley.

Lewis then assumed that we were now a couple, despite of it not being actually stated, because I haven't really denied it. Well, okay, maybe I didn't deny it because Ron still hasn't denied having a relationship with one Katherine Edwards. And that they were still spotted together in various places. I know of this because I saw them having lunch together at the ministry occasionally.

Though it broke my heart every time I saw him with her, I still want my dignity to be intact. Merlin knows how much I want to just drop everything and just knock on his door –though this would be hard to do since he had long ago left our flat and is now living somewhere private according to Harry –and tell him I'm sorry and beg for his forgiveness. I just want him back so bad. Yet, another part of me somehow disagrees. For some insanely irrational reason, I want it to be him doing it. I want him to just leave everything behind, knock on my door, declare his undying love for me and beg me to choose him over any other man. This, I'm sure, has got to do with my recent liking on reading muggle romance novels and I very much know how hopeless romantic those are and don't even let me begin with its hidden imposed expectation on how men should act to enrapture the heart of the ladies. It's totally preposterous yet women like it anyway. I'm guilty myself.

But Ron didn't do anything of the sort. _Merlin's beard!_ He doesn't seem to care at all. This, of course, annoyed me further and then I hadn't realized that I am doing it again until I'm neck-deep in this mess. I'm doing exactly what I'd done with Viktor and Mclaggen (though, only partially true in Viktor's case). I'm using Lewis to elicit a reaction from Ron. And because this plan seemed to be failing yet again – I don't know why I just can't get my lesson – I don't know what to do with Lewis. If only he's living far away like Viktor or as insufferable as Mclaggen, it'd be easy to get rid of him but, no, he's none of those. In all honesty, he's been nothing but a perfect gentleman –though there are annoying things that I'd noticed in him that I found really irritating, like his emphasis on how expensive something cost or how much of a perfectionist he is. But those quirks aren't good enough grounds to break things off with him –though, technically, we aren't really together but I just don't know how to tell him this yet.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" asked Lewis in a slightly suggestive tone.

I wracked my brain for any believable excuse. I can't say I'm not feeling well since that didn't go well the last time I've used that excuse for he went insisting on 'taking care' of me and I ended up spending the whole night faking having a headache and an upset stomach as an excuse on why I kept on going to the loo to escape the rather awkward atmosphere and getting rid of the potions he'd insisted I should take until he decided to went home. _Godric, the man's persistence rivals mine!_ I can't even use my reviewing on the cases I've been working on as well –especially my bill involving the House-Elves which I have entitled as Magna Carta for Elven Welfare as per suggestion of my new found friend Ross Bolt, he doesn't seem to like the names I'd came up with for some reason –for I had used that excuse for the umpteenth time. _What to do?_ My cognitive senses couldn't possibly abandon me in this rather difficult situation, could it?

I heard a distinct pop of apparation several feet away from where we have been standing for Merlin knows how long, while I'm desperately conjuring an excuse, which made me snap my head towards its direction. My eyes scanned the darkness and there stood the answer for my current dilemma, thankfully and quite literally appearing out of thin air.

My face lit up, jubilantly exclaiming, "Harry!"

Harry's face mirrored my elation. It had been a while since both of us have seen each other after his month-long absence due to his Auror related mission. He noticed Lewis beside me and a sheepish expression appeared on his face. "Sorry, have I interrupted something?"

I was confused for a minute but when I saw Harry cocking his eyebrows on Lewis's direction, realization hit me. I looked at Lewis, his face a bit pleading as if silently telling me to get rid of Harry so we can proceed to whatever he was planning that had been graciously interrupted by the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Oh, no, no, he's just about to leave," I answered, and schooling my face with my most innocent expression, turned to Lewis and asked, "right?"

Lewis looked crestfallen by this but did his best to hide his disappointment. "Right, right, I was just leaving. Yeah, yeah, leave. I'm going to –uh –leave now. Nice seeing you, Mr. Potter. Uh, bye, Hermione, we'll see each other tomorrow, yeah?"

"Depends," I answered noncommittally. If it disappointed him further, he didn't show. He gave me a weak _"Right!",_ and then with a curt nod, he then disapparated leaving me a bit guilty for my perhaps not quite subtle rejection but I was also immensely relieved.

"Wow, you're one cruel witch," Harry commented after a lapse of comfortable silence. I turned to him with a questioning look. " _Oh, come on!_ You can't possibly think you can fool me," he said rolling his eyes and in a sympathetic voice added, _"Poor, bloke!"_

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, feigning confusion, which made him roll his eyes at me once more.

Ignoring his last statement I enveloped him with a fierce hug, and ushered him inside my flat. I asked him if he wanted some tea which he refused and went to the sitting room. He then settled himself in a comfortable position on the couch and waits for me to take a seat on the adjacent armchair. I noticed a scatter of letters near the hearth and went to pick them up. A letter from Luna caught my eyes which has a note on the envelope saying: _Sorry, I just want to be on the safe side._ My brows knitted together in confusion and getting painfully curious about the letter, decided to read it:

" _Greetings to you,_

 _I am the great Elgran, apprentice of the Almighty Deity of Magical Beings. I command thee, oh, thou meek being; thou shalt pass along unto thy associates this good news!_

 _The Kingdom of the Wrackspurt shall rise amongst all beings. They shall invade thy ears and in thy fuzzy state, one shall succumb to its vast greatness and see beyond its invisibility. Hail the almighty King of Wrackspurt!_

 _If thou refuse to pass along this message, the great Kingdom of the Wrackspurt shall send thee its great armies to strangle thee in thy sleep and thy family shall suffer great misfortune for the years to come._

 _Apprentice of the Almighty Deity of Magical Beings,_

 _The Great Elgran_

 _Note: According from a trustworthy Magizoologist, the letter could be a sham but Daddy argued that there's an ongoing conspiracy between known Magizoologists and they might be keeping things from us. He actually presented me quite convincing theories and would want to discuss it to you and Ginny, too. I figured, one can never get hurt to do some measures of ensuring one's safety, don't you think so, too? It is advisable to pass this message to at least three people and that it should be in odd number, if greater. Daddy said Wrackspurts hate odd numbers. Hence, more chances of breaking the curse. Pass along! –Luna."_

"Is there something wrong?" asked Harry, probably noticing the scowl on my face as I finished reading Luna's letter.

"Oh, nothing, Luna just sent me a stupid message," I answered as I crumpled then banished the letter and started on reading another letter which came from the Wizengamot.

"Oh, a chain message?" he guessed which made me shot a somewhat curious gaze at him, which answered his question and he had somehow understood my curiosity on how he had guessed it right.

"Someone sent Ginny the same. The look on your face is identical to hers when she'd read hers," Harry said with a wry smile, shrugging. "Tomorrow's the exam, I take it?" he motioned towards the letter.

I sighed. "Yeah, I have studied very hard for this. What if I fail, Harry? I shouldn't have agreed on having a dinner with Lewis tonight. This is all Wanda's fault. She told me to relax the night before the Qualifying Examination. What if she'd just tricked me so I can't study more? That way I'll fail and she'll pass. Oh, I just can imagine her studying furiously now! That – that witch! Merlin, what should I do, Harry?" I gushed out in panic.

In my utter bewilderment, something must be funny on what I had just said for I heard Harry released an amused snort, much to my chagrin. "Honestly, Hermione? Have you forgotten who you are? You're the cleverest witch of our age. I wouldn't even be surprised if you perfected that exam!" Harry exclaimed incredulously with a shake of his head.

I blushed despite my growing anxiety upon hearing Harry's compliment. "Thank you, Harry."

Harry gave me a warm smile which I responded in kind. I then proceeded on preparing tea, ignoring Harry's protest. Offering Harry his tea minutes later, I noticed him looking rather impatient. Glancing on his watch every once in a while and sometimes even craning his neck towards the door as if waiting for someone.

"Are we expecting someone?" I asked absently after I settled back on my seat and looking over the letters I've received for the day.

"Oh, huh?" Harry asked, looking at me in confusion, as if he just got off in a trance. "Yeah, yeah, Ginny," he answered simply, now intently staring on the fireplace.

"Oh," I said, bemused. "Why didn't you come together here then?"

He turned his attention from the fireplace to me, "She's sorting Ron out," he answered and when he noticed my confused expression, added, "When we arrived at his place earlier, he was healing his wounds by himself. He wasn't doing a very good job on it, mind. Said he'd just got off from a week-long mission. So, Ginny's fussing over him now and had asked me to go here first and that she'll follow me after she's finished with Ron."

I blanched upon hearing about Ron's predicament. Worse scenarios have been formulated on my now hyperactive mind, which suddenly had gone in haywire. I felt my throat had gone dry, worry threatening to take hold over me. "Wha –what?"

"Relax! He'll be fine, just the usual wounds and bruises. He'll live, I swear." Harry soothed, sensing panic in my current demeanour. "'sides, Ginny's there. So, no need to worry, alright?"

I nodded, though I wasn't at all comforted nor assured with Harry's words. I perfectly knew what the 'usual wounds and bruises' are and that only means that it's not at all alright.

A swoosh of green flames startled me out of my reverie and out appeared Ginny.

"Oh, hello," greeted Ginny with a bemused look, for we were looking at her with startled expressions.

"How is he?" I promptly asked.

"Nice to see you, too, Hermione. He's fine now and he's now snoring like a hippogriff –if they do snore, that is." Ginny answered, her lips upturned in a knowing smiling.

"Oh, that's good to hear," I sighed in relief. I caught Harry and Ginny exchanging pointed looks, silently discussing something, which I chose to ignore.

"So," Ginny drawled, looking at Harry expectantly. "Have you talked to her then?"

"No, I haven't yet," Harry said apologetically. "I was waiting for you actually."

I looked at the both of them back and forth; trying to make out what is it they want to tell me about. And then my eyes lingered on Ginny. She really is beautiful. But these days, she just looks prettier than normal, I observed. It might be a pre-wedding glow. I look at Harry and I noticed that he too looked a bit different. He was happier and more relaxed. He looked . . . content. And I can't help but smile because they deserve it. They deserve their happy ending and the start of another wonderful romantic adventure.

"Well, it's okay," Ginny said, rolling her eyes playfully. She then turned to me as I looked at her expectantly. "See, Hermione, we've got a bit of a problem. We've booked two different honeymoon destinations. Obviously, we can only go to one unless we went separately which wouldn't be happening, of course . . ." she looked at Harry conspiratorially, which made me roll my eyes for I already have an inkling of what she would say next. "So, we figured, we could ask you to be, you know, our sort of a proxy. Because I know how much you needed a bit of a vacation even if it's for just a week or two. Just so, you know, the money won't go to waste."

"Well, you can always cancel your reservations and ask for a refund." I suggested matter-of-factly.

I heard Harry coughed awkwardly and Ginny smiled sweetly at me, narrowing her eyes. That is her signature 'oh, so you're going to be difficult? Let me convince you till you agree with me' expression. I looked at her with my best innocent look, feigning confusion.

"See, Hermione, it's non-refundable." Ginny emphasized the last word. "So, please, can you be a dear and go in our place?"

I squinted my eyes at her, getting rather suspicious for the hidden agenda behind this all, though I already have an idea what's it all about. "And I'm going with whom?"

Ginny smiled triumphantly at me. "Ron, of course, and no, I won't hear any more excuses. You already agreed, no going back now."

I looked at her incredulously then to Harry, who just shrugged sheepishly. "I never agreed on anything!"

But my protest fell on deaf ears for Ginny was having none of it. They hastily said their goodbyes, leaving me with my indignation and frustration. They've been doing this for a while now. Doing their best to sort out and fix mine and Ron's failed romance. They don't deem my reason for breaking up with him reasonable enough. Ginny was angry at me at first for breaking her brother's heart. Harry was just sad and so were the rest of our families. But then they started scheming, trying to get us back together. When I knew about their plan, I've gotten angry and annoyed at first but then I've got upset because Ron was always away. He was always working. I can't help but feel bad that he was avoiding me nowadays, not that I can blame him, though. So, there I was on my sitting area, contemplating whether this would be a good idea –spending time with Ron, that is. But my Wizengamot aspiration can't be ignore, can it?

When sleep finally took hold of me later that night, I realized something: Love and Ambition is kind of hard to balance to say the least.

* * *

. . .

There are situations where you find yourself in close proximity with someone you somehow despise, if not at all, and there's nothing you can do can do but ponder on why time couldn't fly fast enough or take into consideration some rather drastic precautionary measures to ensure self-preservation. Some of these 'situations' includes being stuck in a room full of aggressive competitors or being in company with sexist, bigoted Ministry officials.

There are also situations including those rare and rather annoying circumstances in which you can't help but ask Merlin if he had decided to have a laugh today and resolved on making your day as worst as it possibly could. An example of which is when you have not prepared yourself enough for today's examination, so you've decided to do an all-nighter the night before but have forgotten to set the alarm, which in turn caused you to wake up 30 minutes before the supposed time of departure. And just when you thought today couldn't go anymore worse, however, you then found yourself in the company of your school bully. _Just how lovely!_

If I were asked when I was still at school, if I ever knew someone who can easily irritate the magic out of anyone just by their mere presence. I would say yes and that it'd be none other than, Draco Malfoy. In all honesty, it might be his innate ability to annoy anyone by just looking at the sneer on his face that, I'd observed, had been eternally plastered on his pointy face.

Why he was in the Ministry, though, piqued my interest. Remembering a discussion with Harry about Lucius Malfoy's sneaky Ministry business intervention with his bag of galleons, I really do hope that Draco Malfoy was not here to do just that, or else . . . Well, I should probably just leave him alone for whatever his business here may be has nothing to do with me. Besides, the Wizengamot Pre-Qualifying Examination later should be the only thing that I should mind.

But if you're in the lift alone with someone you have a pretty bad history with, it's almost too impossible to ignore the uneasy silence that settled in the rather cramped room. Though we were considerably far from one another, I can't keep myself from feeling uneasy. So, to distract myself, I started mentally dictating the revised Wizarding (British) Constitution.

"Granger," I heard Malfoy said in a low, hesitant whisper.

I chance a glance at him curiously, not really sure if I heard him right or if he actually even open his mouth. His head was bowed down, so it was impossible to tell. Maybe, I was just imagining things. I refocused my gaze on the metallic door of the lift and resumed on silently dictating the Constitution. I am currently mentally reciting the Wizards and Witches Rights when I heard my name being called again, louder this time. I snapped my head warily on his direction and was a bit surprised upon seeing him already looking at me. I shot him a quizzical look but his face remained impassive.

"Look, I . . . I came here to ask you a favour," said Draco, noticing my impatience. My eyebrow shot up upon hearing him. What on earth was he playing at? He was asking me for a favour? _The nerve of this wizard!_ Noticing my growing incredulity, he added, "Please tell her that she should stop or else she'll really get herself in trouble this time."

"What?" I asked blankly. I was at a loss with his last remark. Was it a warning, a threat or anything of sorts? I thought he was asking for a favour. Is this it? He wants me to tell someone or warn – _Oh, Merlin!_ What if he was threatening me but was using a direct but at the same time indirect approach. But that wouldn't make sense, so to who was this warning or threat really addressed to? "Who?"

He was about to answer, but obviously hesitating; when the door of the lift opened followed by the monotonic voice announcing that we're already on my level. I ignored it and looked at him firmly, prompting him for answers.

"Hermione?" said another voice. Following the source of the voice which I now know belongs to Harry. He looks bewildered and concerned when his eyes saw Malfoy with me. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing!" said Malfoy rather snappishly and hurriedly exited out of the lift.

I got off of the lift as well and stopped in front of a very confused Harry and noticed that Ron was with him as well. I looked at him and knitted my brow in confusion when I saw his dark expression. He wasn't looking at me, though. But why was he here? He's injured, he should be resting! _Stubborn as usual._

"Well?" drawled Harry impatiently, cocking an eyebrow and a hand on his hip.

"Well what?" I asked, not really getting what he's up to.

I saw Ron glared at me for Merlin knows why and I glared right back at him. I can see Harry rolling his eyes in annoyance in my peripheral vision, and then he asked, "What are you doing with Malfoy?"

"I'm not doing anything with him," I denied heatedly. I heard Ron scoff which irritated me for the implied accusation. "I swear I'm not doing anything with him. He was just talking to me and it was entirely out of the blue, if you should know."

"Talking about what?"

"I haven't got any idea for you suddenly came out of nowhere," I answered honestly. "He was sort of asking me to tell someone or warn him or her or –whatever! I don't know, really. He just walked away in a hurry as you have witnessed."

"That's odd," commented Ron, his brows knitted together in wonder. I looked at him pointedly which made him squirm in discomfort. "What?"

"You're injured," I reminded him which surprised him for some reason. "Why are you not resting?"

"I'm fine now," he said dismissively. When he noticed that I was about to protest and give him a piece of my mind about his rather lack of care of himself, added, " and I've got some stuff that should be taken care of as soon as possible."

I scowled at his vague answer. Surely, one's health should be one's primary concern, should it not? Yes, I may also prioritize other stuff over my health, but that's entirely beside the point.

"Ron!" called a witch who is half jogging from the corridor towards us. "Thanks, _Salazar_ , I've caught up with you."

I take a good look at the witch. She looked tired but oddly energetic. She got a golden, silky hair and a petite frame. Her silver blue eyes dancing giddily matching her huge grin, she seemed ecstatic. She looked regal that's why I always find the Auror robes she's wearing entirely unbecoming.

Ron looked at her in mixed amusement and disinterest, cocking an impatient eyebrow on her direction, which doesn't seem to perturb the witch. "Why? What do you want, Tori?"

"I'm planning to do some baking later," informed Astoria. "But, before that, I've just seen Draco Malfoy! I waved at him but he ignored me as usual, of course." Astoria exclaimed giddily, making Ron roll his eyes in annoyance. "Isn't he positively charming?"

"I don't know, Tori," answered Ron dryly. "I don't really go checking out blokes."

"Oh, so the rumours aren't true then?" asked Astoria in a conspiratorial wonder, making a suggestive gesture towards Ron and Harry.

Harry's eyes widen in horror and Ron reddened in outrage and sputtered an incredulous, _"What?"_

Astoria laughed loudly and said, "Calm down, I was just having a laugh." Ron rolled his eyes, obviously annoyed and I couldn't help but laugh. Ron narrowed his eyes at me and I gave him a pleased smirk. "Anyway," drawled Astoria after she composed herself. "I was wondering if you like chocolate cake or do you want to request another flavour?"

I never get the chance to know his answer for the door of the lift opened again and they started to get in. But before Ron went inside, he turned towards me and gave me a shy, _"Good luck later!"_

I nodded at him and smiled. I saw him gave me a tight-lipped smile in return and then went inside. Harry smiled at me encouragingly while Astoria gave me a small wave. Then the door of the lift closed. I smiled again, this time rather foolishly. This day isn't that bad after all.

XXXX

* * *

 **A.N.:** I know it's been a while since the last time I've updated but, well, my laptop got broken. Coincidentally, though, I've received 10 chain messages a day prior, resulting to a broken laptop, cellphone and a smashed tablet. But, I think it's better that than being strangled by a random dead girl while you sleep, right? Not that I'm blaming all that to chain messages - not at all. I mean it's already 2016, who believes on such stuff nowadays, right? I mean, I may have blocked all of those who've sent me those and rewrite everything on this chapter. But, no, I'm not pissed at all. Ugh!


	6. Chapter 6

I've got classes during mornings and an internship during afternoons so I have difficulties on finding time to write but whenever I do have time I do write and as a proof to that was this chapter containing 15k+ words. yay!

Warning : Language, Innuendos and Bad Grammar.

 **Sweeping Disclaimer :** All things related to HP universe are solely owned by JK Rowling and associates. The author doesn't gain any profit out of this and rightfully so. The author would like to remind that this is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and everything that is not associated in the HP universe are product of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. If you noticed any resemblance to another story, events, places, or person, living or dead, and the author failed to cite/acknowledged it, please kindly notify the author for this lapse or error. I repeat, all rights are reserved to JK Rowling and associates.

* * *

 **. . .**

The room was silent. But the silence was deafening. Only the scratching of quills on parchments, the random, rhythmic tapping of someone's foot on the floor, or a quill or a finger drumming on top of the desk, and frustrated sighs and other odd, muffled noises can be heard. But the figurative shout of agitating pressure of the competition was buzzing on my ears. It is getting on my nerves and I can't help but take a breath to calm myself down.

 _Tick. Tick. Tick_.

A special timer keeps on ticking, hovering around the room above our heads, mocking us. It looks like an ordinary hourglass; only humongous (okay, that's perhaps a bit exaggerated) in size and, instead of sand, inside was a special kind of liquid, purple of colour. Each drop was hypnotizing and agonizing at the same time, making the moment all the more unpleasant. If suffering has a sound this was probably it.

I know I'm being overdramatic but, for Merlin's sake, cut me some slack! Okay, I'm talking to myself now. Not a good sign. This examination is definitely taking its toll on me.

Not that I wasn't prepared. As a matter of fact, I've been preparing for this for months –revising, researching and all that stuff. But the mocking feeling of dread when there's a possibility of me failing this chance of a lifetime keeps on bothering me.

 _Focus!_ I keep on telling myself like a mantra.

Mrs. Atkins, the invigilator, then decided to pace around the aisle that separates each desk in a row at least an arm span wide. The loud thumping of her high heels was disturbing the quiet, contributing its share of distraction to the rather fidgety feel of the room. And, it really is quite distracting – _like, really distracting!_ – to my utter annoyance.

I heard a disgruntled scoff behind me. Thankfully, I wasn't the only one annoyed by the distracting sound. Then, I heard a banging noise, making me and everyone else jump and look around to its source.

"Didn't I say not to cheat or even attempt to move that neck, Mr. Sullivan?" screeched Mrs. Atkins, slamming the rolled up paper she was holding on Robert's assigned desk for the second time. "And all of you, eyes on your parchment! Even if you heard someone dying behind you – You. Shall. Not. Look. Understand?!"

Everyone then hurriedly moved back to their respective positions and resumed on answering the examination questionnaire. I barely heard Robert's whispered apology as I focused on reading the question:

 _"Witch A and Wizard B are next-door-neighbours and are known to be sworn enemies. Witch A's grandfather once planted a tree on the edge of their fenced property right next to Wizard B's. As the tree grew over time, it bended and stretched its wide branches downwards to Wizard B's wife's garden. Wizard B asked Witch A to remove the tree as it was destructing their property in which Witch A steadfastly refused to do so, for some sentimental reason. One day, Witch A discovered that the portion of the tree that outgrew towards Wizard B's side of the fence was already gone and its branches scattered on her property rather haphazardly. Could Witch A file a complaint against Wizard B? If so, what cases could it be? As a part (assumed) of Wizengamot what legal resolution(s)/advice(s) could you partake to resolve any filed complaint? . . ."_

I sighed, contemplating what would my answer be and then looked up at the magical hourglass and panicked when I noticed that its upper bulb was almost halfway on being empty. The time seems to fly in a blink of an eye. Hastily scrawling my answer to the situation, I risked a glance to my other competitors through my peripheral vision without moving my neck.

I saw Veronica Squigglestone on my right, pouting her lips while intently looking on her parchment and Daniel Arsen on my left, scowling at the parchment in front of him while twirling his quill absently. Shaking my head, I willed myself again to focus and started on reading another test item.

Another stressful set of minutes later, Mrs. Atkins banged her sound block with a gavel, making everyone look at her distractedly, and pointed a wrinkly finger on the hourglass of which the upper bulb is now empty. "Time's up, I'm afraid."

Frowning, I stared as my parchment floated on the air alongside the others and systematically filed themselves on the old invigilator's desk.

I haven't even thoroughly checked all my answers yet!

"For the next course, you would be divided into two opposing teams. You are to research about the Mathilda Wartsy case, one of the old and most controversial cases previously heard by the High Court. Whichever group would be for or against and how will the lot of you would be group would be revealed during the day of the debate. A special Wizengamot council would be made to act as judges that would weigh the arguments you would put before them on the points of law at stake. We will send you an owl for the time and date," informed Mrs. Atkins disinterestedly as she finished gathering all the parchments. She then stood up and looked at us sharply. "I trust you all did well. If not, do your best to thoroughly impress us next time, for the final three would be chosen then after."

After she left the room, I released a sigh of relief that I didn't know I was holding. I think I did alright but I shouldn't ignore the possibility of failure. Nothing good happens if one decided to be entirely complacent after all. There should always be room for errors, so one could easily minimize it as much as possible.

"What do you reckon was the reason why they chose the Mathilda Wartsy case as a debate topic?" asked Ross who suddenly rushed in front of me and is now perched on my desk.

"I certainly have no idea." I answered honestly. "I don't even know who Mathilda Wartsy is."

"You don't?" asked a scandalized Ross incredulously. When I nodded in affirmation, he eyed me in disbelief. "You don't know Mathilda Wartsy at all? Good Merlin! Wicked Witch of Wickedville? Jacqueline the Jockey? Ring any bells?"

I shake my head in negative. I'm not really familiar with Wizarding celebrities –at least that's what I think Mathilda Wartsy is.

"Why, Hermione, Wartsy is like the goddess of Wizarding theatre arts," broken in Wanda, who I've just noticed to have had joined us. "Oh, am I right to assume you never saw any Wizarding play?"

"Sorry, no," I answered apologetically. Ross looked appalled, like I have personally insulted him. Wanda looked at me in pity.

"Why, darling, where have you been living the whole time?" asked Ross.

I'm tempted to answer that when I'm not in the muggle world, I'm mostly somewhere helping on trying to defeat Voldemort but I wisely kept my mouth shut while they continued looking at me like I have sprouted another layer of my rather bushy hair.

"I haven't really seen a Wizarding play," I affirmed again after a pregnant pause, a bit annoyed.

"But surely, you at least might have heard of one of her audio plays in the wireless. They do replay it in memory of her, y'know. Her in-distress voice could make any harden, cold-hearted death eater cry in sympathy of her apparent ill-fate." said Wanda exaggeratedly.

"Sorry, no, maybe I'll look her up later. You know, for some references." I said apologetically but then I got curious and asked, "What could have a celebrity do to make her case a debate worthy of Wizengamot? Is it a grave offense? Seriously, what had she done?"

"Mathilda Wartsy was verdict guilty of having an adulterous affair with another man," answered Ross casually. "Her husband was a very wealthy man and was therefore a very formidable wizard in the high society."

My forehead crinkled in bemusement. I actually find it totally unsatisfying of a reason to be deemed as Wizengamot worthy debate of a case. "That's it? I mean, there'd been a lot of cases involving infidelity. What made this particular case special to be worthy of a debate or discussion in the high court?"

"You need to know that the man Wartsy was having an illicit affair with was a Muggleborn, and that this was the starting phase of You-Know-Who on his path of becoming a tyrant. Her husband loved her so much that he didn't want her to be stoned to death. So instead he blamed the man, already dead at that time, mind, to had hypnotized and seduced Wartsy. And that it was the Muggle filth in him that made her did such act of infidelity. He even proposed to ban all Muggleborns from entering the Wizarding World like Salazar Slytherin once wished, to prevent Purebloods for doing wrong acts influenced by their supposed filth. Given her husband's influence, Purebloods started to clamour on banning Muggleborns but the ministry denied them of this making this one of the many reasons for most Purebloods to side with You-Know-Who, when he promised them that he will get rid of all Muggleborns and made the Wizarding World pure again."

So, they've shifted the blame to someone who's already dead and can't possibly defend himself and even attempted to shift all the blame to all Muggleborns in general. _Lovely._

"Well that's kind of stupid, isn't it?" I asked, appalled. "Not to mention, unfair and totally idiotic."

Ross just shrugged and Wanda was tight-lipped. How can they expect me to defend such side with that kind of reason? What do they want to achieve with this?

"Well . . ." Ross drawled, seemingly at a loss for words. "That's what they want."

"Well that was a very stupid reason to side on Voldermort, don't you think?" I asked in disbelief, looking at the both of them in the eye, watching for their reaction. "But, perhaps, it doesn't matter how petty the reason is as long as they'd have an excuse, no matter how feeble and meagre it may be, to push their pathetic Pureblood ideals."

"Watch it, Granger," a voice behind me warned haughtily. I rolled my eyes, knowing well who the owner of the voice is. Turning around to face her, she continued, "Hornpuckle here is a Pureblood, whose great aunt was one of the forerunners of that –how did you put it? Oh, yes –'pathetic' Pureblood ideals," taunted Katherine with a raised eyebrow, her face filled with scorn that is deftly concealed with a saccharine smile.

I looked at Wanda, who's hanging her head low, not looking anyone in the eye. I felt my irritation rise with Katherine's insinuation. How dare she accuse Wanda of believing such ignorant, bigoted belief? She doesn't, does she? Of course, she doesn't. But I don't really know her that much to be entirely sure. But then again she never gave any indication that she's a bigoted Pureblood at all. I look at Wanda again and strengthen my resolve. Of course, she's not. She's my friend. That's proof enough.

"She's not her aunt," I shot back at Katherine. "She's brave enough to defy the ideals that were constantly shoved down her throat and stand for what she believe is right. She's not what her family is."

Katherine snorted prettily. Ugh, how can she do that? That's unfair!

I raised an eyebrow at her.

"Right," Katherine said mockingly. "Have fun making a fool of yourself with that."

I watch her flipped her silky hair and walked out of the room gracefully with Squigglestone and Rowlsen in tow, which I've just noticed were with her the whole time.

"Wow!" gushed Ross, who made an exaggerated clap that made me roll my eyes, apparently in awe. I looked at Wanda who still look ashamed and smiled at her. She smiled weakly back.

We decided to go to the Ministry Cafeteria to indulge ourselves a bit after the examination. We were just rounding from a corridor to the antechamber that leads to various rooms and offices used by the Wizengamot when we saw Warlock Meng Chang trying to molest her secretary by the commissionaire's corner.

Wanda groaned beside me. "He has no shame, hasn't he? An ancient tosspot who forgot that he should act his age and position."

"To be fair," interjected Ross. "He was apparently a very handsome wizard during his time. Witches apparently went crazy for him once upon a time."

"And when's that?" asked Wanda unkindly. "Eons ago?"

I snorted rather inelegantly while Ross let out a bark of laughter.

"I can't believe he's still part of the Wizengamot with that kind of behaviour," I said with a disgusted frown. "Just look how he leers at his secretary, very lascivious!"

"And to think he was so ancient, you would thought he would have developed a modicum of decorum by now," added Wanda disdainfully.

"Well, he's apparently very wise," said Ross diplomatically. "In fact, it was apparently Dumbledore who'd encouraged him to stay and keep his position in the high court ever since his family was murdered."

So, his family was murdered then? How come Ross knew stuff like this? I don't know why I felt a stab of pity for the old warlock, though. But then I saw him put his hand dangerously low on his poor secretary's behind. The poor witch looked absolutely uncomfortable and mortified.

Ugh! What a disgusting old pig!

"Well, I don't know what the professor was thinking or if he had momentarily lost his mind for that," I said cattily. "Just look where his hand is resting! That sure made me grateful he wasn't my mentor and that no one is. Though, I haven't seen Mrs. Hewitt for a while now."

"Oh, you haven't heard about it then?" asked Ross curiously. I looked at him quizzically then he clarified, "Warlock Hewitt was apparently accused of corruption or something. She was suspended now and would be subjected to an investigation."

We were just outside the Wizengamot antechamber and in a hallway to the lift when I stopped walking. That news made me stop, making the other two stop as well, looking at me pityingly.

What? Surely, that'd have to be untrue. I mean, Mrs. Hewitt can't be corrupt or something. Was she wrongfully accused? My mind is reeling in confusion. Surely, this couldn't be happening when I still needed her for the chance to have a spot in the Wizengamot. Oh, no! The Wizengamot! How could've I forgot? What would happen to me?

"But," I said, shocked, "how about me? I mean, she's my mentor, right? Who would advise me now?"

"Well," drawled Wanda. "It looks like it'd be Warlock Chang."

NO. Just. No.

Just then, as if on cue, a flying ministry memo poked me in the arm. Plucking it out in the air, I opened it and saw that it came from the Wizengamot Head Secretary's office. After reading it, I can't help but frown in apprehension. Wanda's guess had just been confirmed. Stupid Wizengamot!

Later that day, I find myself walking down Diagon alley. The weather was pretty chilly. The night sky overhead was covered with thick, dark clouds only allowing a portion of the moon to occasionally peek through. Almost all of the shops were already closed by now and the remaining few that were still open were just about to close as well, just entertaining a handful of customers who were still out for a rather late night shopping.

I am late –that, I'm quite sure of. I have been debating whether I should go or not for a considerable amount of time. I should've stayed in the Ministry and spend my time on more important matters but after my incessant moaning about the news earlier, Wanda and Ross, fed up, took it upon themselves to convince –well, coerce more like – me to attend today's occasion.

It's not as if my presence would be missed anyway, that's highly unlikely. See, I'm sort of a wallflower in every party that most people my age thought to be fun. Yes, they were my friends but it doesn't mean their obligated to enjoy my company, or maybe I'm just being too hard on myself. But, in the end, I decided to go anyway, just to avoid going home to a lonely house, which I've been doing a lot these days by staying late at work or doing literally anything just to pass the time, and I kind of promised Harry and Ginny that I'd be there. So, off I'd go.

Gripping my cloak and pulling it tighter into my now chilled body, I continue walking through the cobblestoned alley towards the new pub that Seamus owns. It is Seamus' birthday today. And usually every birthday of his is celebrated with bevvies and loud music. It started after the war and was usually held in a muggle disco club. He said that it's the apt place to celebrate another year of his life for it embodied him in a way; Wild and Fun, he claimed.

I don't like this kind of frivolity, in all honesty. I'd rather spend the night curled up in my bed or in the couch or anywhere in my flat that I find convenient lying about, reading a book or two leisurely, sipping a cup of tea or a mug of hot chocolate maybe. All this, while Ron grumbles on how boring he found the silence was or me catching him staring at me in that intense way of his that - I definitely had to take a grip! No sense on thinking about the past now.

Yes. No sense at all.

But my mind kept on wondering whether he'd be there tonight, though. It was him, after all, who convinces me to go on this kind of occasions most of the time. "It'd be fun, Hermione!" he'd say, or "Loosen up a bit, Hermione!", or sometimes it'd be, " We can live our lives the way we want now, Hermione. How about sprinkling it with a bit of fun?"

Of course, I'd relent afterwards. How could I not? Just seeing that sparkle in his eyes filled with a mischievous ardour could always reduce me weak on my knees. That dimple on the left side of his cheek –which he hated because it apparently makes him look "un-manly", that sometimes makes me scowl because I secretly adore it – gracing his face while his lips tugs upward in an enigmatic yet seductive smile, as if he knew all along that I'd go with him anyway without him asking me in the first place. It's as if he loves the logistics of convincing me, on making me relent and do his bidding whatever it may be (which, I always made sure, should be entirely legal and, if possible, strictly within the confines of valid reasoning). I like that he's thoughtful enough to ask me first before deciding for the both of us.

It is one of those times, where I knew I'd fallen deeply in love. It's as if I was under his spell –whether he's aware of the power he have over me or not, I'm not quite sure – hypnotizing me, alluring me in a blissful daze. Like a magnet to an iron, like an Niffler to a gold, like a moth to a flame, like a sperm to – Er. . . you get the general idea .

A giggle escaped from my mouth, which I tried to stifle by biting both of my lips in between my teeth. Sometimes, to my absolute inner mortification, I'd caught myself derailed in a train of thought where Ron's coarse influence on me is palpable. And, as if adding salt to the wound, I also had my fair share of unconscious utterance of cringe-worthy and severely mortifying remarks I've got from him through verbal osmosis. Good thing, no one can read my mind, and that I have, most of the time, successfully kept myself from spewing such rude and reprehensible remarks.

Looking up, I saw the sign where the name of the still newly opened pub –which I believe would never cease to make my eyes roll – was engraved with silhouettes of two dancing rather provocatively, scantily-clad women on the side: Wizards' Ardour.

Pushing the door of the pub open, a tinkle of the chime situated above the door announced my entrance. I took in the serene, enticing sound coming from the harmonious blending of a violin, a saxophone, and a grand piano playing a wizarding classic piece entitled: Icarus' fall, in a corner which was charmed to play themselves, giving off a rather cosy and erotic ambiance to the room. Several patrons were scattered around, looking quite content with the peaceful atmosphere while sipping their respective spirits.

I can't help the amused smile from grazing my face, thinking how the place seemed to be the exact opposite of where the real celebration is happening right now. I went to the barmaid and, with a polite smile, asked for the 'key'. The barmaid, whose name I knew to be Laura, smiled back at me and handed over an empty bottle of wine, which I took gratefully. I then went to a room in the back part of the pub that has a neon muggle signage hanging on its door that says: Only Authorized Personnel Are Allowed Inside.

Pushing the door open, I entered a room that's only a bit larger than of an average pantry. Carefully closing the door, I noticed a huge wooden liquor cabinet that is almost already filled with various empty bottles of alcoholic beverages. I inserted the bottle of wine I was holding to one of the empty racks. A swift red light swished then vanished and the shelf soon begun to rattle and then lowered itself slowly to the ground revealing another room that is quite dark.

Stepping inside, I was assaulted with a loud, banging noise and laser lights that almost blinded me. Adjusting my vision, I noticed a rather large crowd dancing on the dance floor, and wondered just how many guests are present and if it's even possible for someone to know such a large crowd. Looking around and paving my way through the throng of dancing bodies, I soon spotted my friends who were huddled on a corner. They were seated on three leather couches that were arranged closely in an incomplete rectangle surrounding a small, rectangular table that already has several glasses with drinks on it, a selection of finger foods and a bottle of firewhiskey, some beers and other alcoholic beverages on top.

It was Parvati who saw me first. With a smile, she waved at me and motioned for me to come and sit with them. I saw Lavender, Luna, Dean, Neville, Anthony Goldstein, Hannah Abbot and Parvati's twin, Padma, sitting together. They looked relaxed and were obviously having the time of their lives, while they happily talked and laughed with each other.

I tried to hide the frown of disappointment that threatens to appear on my face upon knowing that the people I was expecting to be there weren't there yet, or worse, won't even come. I stopped on my track, hesitating whether this is a good idea at all. Don't get me wrong, alright. They were all my friends. It's just that none of them are close to me enough to make me loosen up a bit. I'm a bit uptight, see, or so what most people say about me. I have half a mind on turning back and just go back home. The problem is how to do that without looking rude or anything worse.

"Glad you made it," said a deep voice from behind me which made me stiffen in anticipation. I would know that voice anywhere.

Turning around, my eyes meet Ron's. And for a moment everything became a blur, as if my vision was of a lens of a muggle camera, focusing only on its subject, which in my case was Ron. And, Oh, Merlin, was he beautiful. Like a picturesque, solitary rose amongst a sea of dandelions in a vast meadow. His eyes, an electric blue of hue, were penetrating, looking at me with a rather intense gaze. Studying me curiously, looking a bit hesitant and relieved. His unruly hair took the changing colours of the random beams of light from the laser light but somehow still manages, however barely, to give the illusion of as if it was on fire. The shadows contoured his face, emphasizing his prominent jaw and high cheek bones, giving him a bit of a dark, mysterious yet enticing aura. The top few buttons of the fitted, dark blue oxford shirt he was wearing were undone. His sleeves were rolled up carelessly.

He looked like a hot mess.

I might have stared for far too long for he let out a fake, loud cough and gave me an awkward, tight-lipped smile. Blinking back to reality, I have responded in kind. I thanked the heavens that the room was a bit dark for I am sure I'm blushing something awful.

"Er, hi," said Ron a bit unsurely, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hello," I said timidly, biting my lower lip. I felt the warm heat from my cheeks creeping down my neck and I willed myself to relax. We both stood there, staring at each other, unsure of what to do. What should someone say in this kind of situation? I can feel a prickling sensation, making the hair on the back of my neck stand, and I knew then that some of, if not all, our friends were looking at us.

This is embarrassing.

"Well, we're looking a bit underdressed, eh?" said Ron teasingly.

I would've appreciate the attempt for levity had it not for the fact that he had commented on my attire – which is me in just my work robes , by the way – out of all things. So, I scowled in annoyance. I wasn't really sure on coming so I didn't make an effort of dressing up. But with his comment, I felt rather self conscious and wished I have at least made the effort.

Ron, noticing my annoyance, grinned in amusement, and said, "Now, now, there's no need for the long face. You still look fine. I'm sure you'll still look pretty even if you're wearing rags or anything worse."

He said it so offhandedly that, again, I found myself thanking the heavens that we were in a dark place for I'm sure I'm now blushing profusely yet again. Leave it to Ron to turn an insult to a compliment or compliment you through insulting you or whatever.

I give him a weak, shy smile which made him smile goofily back.

"Nice of you to finally show yourself, mate!" exclaimed a voice from somewhere, then suddenly Ron was thumped in the back rather hard by the Boy-Who-Lived, successfully saving us from the awkward yet heated conversation.

"Yeah, yeah," said Ron, waving a hand dismissively, his eyes were now scanning the place, looking out for possible security threats as he and Harry usually does ever since they've became Aurors. "Mr. Granger can only taught me about muggle weapons that much. Bit mental, he is! Was actually considering on making both of us enrolled in Parko [Parkour] training or whatever that rot is called. I mean all that jumping, running, and climbing would sure break him a bone or two. I mean, no offense, Hermione, but your dad is no longer on his prime, you know, but don't tell him I said that."

I smiled at him, amused. He and my father have developed some form of a relationship when my father expressed his desire to change his profession and become a soldier. He claimed he wanted to find himself. My mother claimed it to be a form of a Midlife Crisis. But I know it's rooted from the knowledge that I became a war veteran in such a young age and it happened behind their backs. I saw the pain on my father's eyes after he thought that he had failed to protect me as his child and I know that this was his way of coping with that news. How he came up with the logic of him becoming a soldier would make him somehow able to protect me, I would never know.

Of course, I disapprove of that notion rather vehemently. But, as Ron had pointed out, I am my father's daughter. I apparently inherited my hard-headedness from him. So, Ron took the liberty to offer my father some company, to keep an eye on him for me. They've hit it off since then. My father acquainted Ron on the days that he is free off of work to the various muggle weapons, customs, and other artefacts that Ron would later complain to me on how annoying he finds it to be but I know deep inside he actually enjoyed every second of it.

He gave me a conspiratorial wink that made my heart flutter, and then looked around the place once again. "Where's Ginny?" asked Ron, addressing Harry.

Harry shrugged while trying his best to appear unfazed to the shameless gawking and usual pointing on his direction by some people of this shindig. "She said she needs to go visit the loo."

Ron nodded and looked at Harry then asked, "How long have you been here, mate?"

"About an hour," answered Harry. He then turned to me and smiled. "I'm glad you came, Hermione. I was a bit convinced that the two of you won't be coming."

So they were here that long? How come I didn't notice them?

"Why won't we?" asked Ron, distracting me from my thoughts, arching an eyebrow at him. Harry gave him a pointed look then looked meaningfully at me. Ron scoffed then gave a curt nod to Neville who was at the couch where everyone else was seated, then looked back to Harry and said, "Well, we're here now."

I sensed Ron looking at me, making me look right back at him. I saw longing and sadness dance across his eyes which faded just as fast as it came.

"How about we move our nice little arses and sit with the rest of them lot," said Ron suddenly, successfully hiding the fleeting emotion that crossed his face just a while ago, and pointedly ignoring my look of disapproval for his crass language. "I don't fancy standing here for the rest of the night unless, of course, the two of you do."

"Merlin, no, I've been standing for Merlin knows how long," denied Harry. "Ginny's going bonkers for dancing. I think my limbs going to fell off."

"You've danced?" asked Ron incredulously. "Has anyone been injured?"

Harry, annoyance though apparent, playfully answered, "None that I'm aware of."

Together, we walked towards the rest of our friends gathered together at the corner of the pub. There was a loud greeting that ensued, and then I found myself seated in between Luna and Parvati, to my great dismay. Ron was seated on the couch across me with Dean and Anthony while Harry settled himself on the adjacent couch where Lavender is seated.

"Hey! Hey! Hey! Look who's late?" Seamus exclaimed a while later, coming towards us with a huge smile.

"Sod off, you mighty wanker!" Ron replied, standing up. He gave Seamus a half hug and a rather hard thumping on the back. "Happy birthday, mate."

I stood up as well and gave Seamus a peck on the cheek, greeting him as well.

Seamus decided to sit with us, joining Ron and Dean on giving Anthony, who was holding a drink in each hand, explicit advice on his drunken confession of his lover's disturbing insinuation of her openness for a threesome, making Neville blush and Harry guffaw.

"Oh, that's probably why you're double fisting now, mate," said Seamus with a chortle. "You secretly want to but you wanted two witches instead of you doing at it with your witch and another bloke!"

Anthony scowled and vehemently denied Seamus' weird drunken analogy. He then swallowed the two alcohols on his hands consecutively as if it was nothing making the wizards cheered.

Honestly, by the way this lot were behaving you would wonder if they indeed are grown up wizards.

"I think your girlfriend might have drank a Palavering Harbinger infested aubergine shake," interjected Luna wistfully, loud enough for everyone to stare, perplexed, at her. "They like to swim in an aubergine shake, don't you know? But sometimes they do infest in tap water. Well, they do have their preferences. I think the firewhiskeys are the preferred beverage for tonight. They make the drinker feel impervious to satisfaction and contentment, see."

"What doesh that creature -wait, ish that a creature? An inshect, perhapsh?" asked Anthony curiously. He's obviously very drunk judging by the lazy blinking of his dazed eyes and flushed face but he managed not to entirely slur his words.

Luna nodded, looking at Anthony oddly, as if she's bewildered that Anthony doesn't know what she's talking about. "They're colourful creatures that look like worms with tiny, netted leather wings. But Daddy reckons they can camouflage. Sort of a combination of -"

"What doesh that g-got to do with my girlfriend'sh barmy threeshome inclination?" Anthony cut off, looking thoughtful and bewildered, making the wizards beside him snicker, Neville looks curious, while Harry pursed his lips to stifle a smile and the other witches giggled.

"Why, Anthony, they might have been the cause of your girlfriend's discontentment of your bedroom performance to seek another form of sexual pleasure," said Luna seriously. At this everyone broke to a raucous laughter bar Luna, Anthony and I. I gave Anthony a sympathetic glance upon seeing his beet-red face, obviously humiliated. "They make the victim feels like they should have more, see. Like this loud music for example. We can all enjoy the music with a lesser decibel but we want to feel the music to the highest intensity so we turn the volume up to its full blast then the pleasure is at the highest possible scale. That's might be the case with your girlfriend. I think she wants the highest intensity," Luna added solemnly.

"Are you saying I'm unsatisfying?" cried an outraged Anthony.

"No," said Luna calmly, smiling dreamily at Anthony. "Your girlfriend might be dissatisfied but does not instantly mean you're unsatisfying. You might be just someone else's satisfaction. And, besides, that is not really entirely the reason, is it? As I've said, you might want to check her drinks for Palavering Harbingers. Nasty creatures that they are!"

And Luna just had to ruin it by mentioning an imaginary creature. _Typical_.

Anthony blinked at her blankly. The others laughed then the wizards returned to teasing him and giving him another set of advice that includes various impossible sexual positions for three. All the while, I've made my disapproval known by clucking my tongue and interjecting in their conversation every once in a while to contradict a ludicrous 'suggestion' or 'advice' by giving a logical analysis making Ron sit beside me to keep the other wizards from telling me how annoying I am being. The twin witches and Hannah had long ago abandoned us to dance on the dance floor dragging a reluctant Dean with them.

"Godric, help me!" Ginny exclaimed breathlessly all of a sudden, coming out of the blue from somewhere in the pub, looking annoyed. Her eyes were frantic, her hair dishevelled as if she was harassed by someone. She might have noticed our questioning looks and said by way of an answer, "Someone attacked me!"

Harry leap out of his seat in a flash, his eyes alert and jaws set tight, looking ready to pounce on anyone.

"Who? Where?" Asked Harry sharply, coming to Ginny's aid.

Ginny's eyes widen when she noticed Harry's reaction. I look around and noticed that the rest of our group were frowning with concern and curiosity.

"That prat," said Ginny with a pout, pointing a finger somewhere.

All eyes followed the direction Ginny's finger was pointing and we saw a laughing George and Lee Jordan. They might have felt our gazes and they turned to look at us. They gave us a small wave, eyes filled with mirth, then pointed upwards.

I gasped. Horrified.

Up in the ceiling, above the sea of dancing people, was a man. His head was bloated like a balloon. It might have been the reason he was floating up in the air. He was flailing his arms, thrashing wildly. Then I saw bats coming from somewhere in his head, I couldn't really make out since he was situated upwards where the meagre light of the room couldn't reach. He might have been shouting but I cannot hear it out in the blaring music.

"W-what?" I spluttered in horror. I heard Ron guffawed and was saying how 'brilliant' he found the idea of a wizard floated up in the air in between bouts of laughter. "Ginny, why –?"

"Oh, save me the lecture, Hermione," Ginny cut off cattily. "That man deserves it for trying to grope me!"

"That man did what?" Harry asked darkly.

"You heard me," answered Ginny tartly. "Why do they always do that? As if telling me that they're my fan would make me allow them to cop a feel!"

"Well," interjected Luna. "People are like that, I suppose, they either hate or want what everyone else wants and sometimes they think that they're entitled to have what they want."

"But not everyone else wants me, Luna," Ginny shot back matter-of-factly, arching an eyebrow.

Luna looked at her thoughtfully, tilting her head slightly. "That may be true but most people think they should."

Ginny looked at Luna like she thought the other girl had gone another level of madness, which is not an entirely surprising reaction when it comes to Luna. I thought about what Luna just said and realize that she has a point. Since Harry is extremely revered in the Wizarding World, somehow wizards would be jealous with him at one point or something and would want to be him in a way or two.

"I think Luna's right," I voiced out, shifting the attention to me from Luna, who smiled at me dreamily. "Everyone else wants Harry or wants what Harry wants, and Harry has you, so to a degree they would want you too and or maybe it's because you're a famous Quidditch player. There are people who develop an unhealthy obsession towards celebrities, you know. They imagine that you are theirs and misinterpret every single thing you do to justify the notion they built inside their head that you want them as well. It could develop to a serious mental disorder if not prevented. It would do you good if you take the necessary precautions –"

"Right!" interrupted Ginny. "Well, that made what I just did seemed just then."

"What?" I asked blankly.

"It's a good thing you aren't that imperceptive, Hermione," said Luna with a wistful smile. I looked at her, flabbergasted. Did she just say what I think she just said? I saw Harry and Ginny trying to hold back their mirth and it made me scowled, disgruntled. "It's such a nice news to know that for someone who has been infested with Wrackspurts," Luna added, looking intently at somewhere at the top of my head. "Judging with that large number of Wrackspurts, though, it's imperative for you –" she then looked at Ginny, "and Ginny too, to pass along the chain letter before the Wrackspurts got you." Luna then reached out and started to wave her hands to shoo something off of the top of my head.

I stifled an eye roll as I tried to get Luna to stop her ridiculous display of 'ridding Wrackspurts off the top of my head'. I looked at Harry helplessly, who's now doubled over with laughter, then to Ginny, who though obviously amused still look quite put out.

Ginny just shrugged dismissively and looked at Ron, who's now sitting back lazily on the couch in a four figure position, an arm spread on the backrest and is nursing a lager on one hand, and is having a conversation with Lavender, Lavender talking animatedly while Ron was nodding and smiling at her. Hmmp!

Perhaps feeling his sister staring daggers at him, he turned his head to look at Ginny making Lavender stop her babbling, tilting his head questioningly. Thankfully, Luna has now stopped fending off imaginary creatures off of me and decided she wanted to dance and got up to dance in the dance floor dragging a reluctant Neville with her.

"Tell Parkinson she's an abominable bitch!" Ginny hissed loudly.

I clucked my tongue in disapproval. Seriously, calling a witch a bitch is uncalled for, even if said witch deserves it. But then again, there's always an exception to the rule so I should give Ginny that.

"What have she done now?" asked Ron, looking completely uninterested, as if he had heard his sister complained about this a lot which I know for a fact is true.

"Bump into her in the loo. She's being her unpleasant self as usual. Why is she here anyway?" Ginny asked irritably.

"I asked Seamus," Ron said with a shrug, then turned back his attention to Lavender.

I scowled. What could have been Lavender been talking about that made him that interested.

"And why's that may I ask?" demanded Ginny.

Ron looked at her again, now obviously getting annoyed, "Because I wanted to, nosey."

Ginny made an incredulous laugh. Perhaps, she's a bit drunk. A drunken Ginny is never good news. I tuned out from whatever the two siblings were bickering about and scanned the room, in search for the subject of Ginny's ire, and sure enough I found her sitting with a blonde that looks to be Astoria and some wizards in a table far across ours. Narrowing my eyes, I stared at her while I drink my second –or is it my third? –glass of firewhiskey. Why am I drinking this anyway? It made my throat burn!

Opting to drink a gillywater this time, I resumed staring at Pansy Parkinson. She was wearing an off-shoulder black robe and was laughing at something one of her companion might have said. Then Astoria pointed at something I can't make out from Pansy's behind making all of them to look at it. Then I saw her turn her head and looked at our table and our gazes met. Even from afar, I can see quite clearly the annoying smirk that tug from her very red lips. Holding my gaze, I saw her stood up and walked towards our direction.

Ignoring her, I looked back at Ron who has now resumed talking with Lavender and I noticed Ginny was now sitting on Harry's lap, they were whispering something with one another with their faces mere inches away from each other. Obviously, someone, probably Harry, had successfully averted the apoplectic row to happen between the two Weasleys.

My gaze turned back to Ron as I studied his profile while he was talking to Lavender. I'd caught a word or two from their conversation every once in a while but nothing really registered on my mind as I continue studying Ron, mesmerized. I missed him so much. It had been months since the last time I had the opportunity to look at him this way and this close.

The first time I met him, I never thought of him to be handsome. Sure, I found his hair quite nice and his eyes were rather lovely, but beyond that, I found nothing about him attractive. He was gangly, very mean, he doesn't study well, he was rude, he ate too much and he, for some reason my younger self couldn't quite understand, hated me, made fun of me, and thought I was a nightmare and I hated him for it. After he and Harry saved me from the troll, though. I found out that he is rather brave and is quite funny. He can be nice too, to my great surprise. Then, unconsciously, I started noticing him more, in ways a friend shouldn't do. I found his freckles to be adorable, the way his deep red brows knit in concentration as he consider his next move when he played Wizard's Chess which I found to be quite endearing, and then during third year I realized that he was rather cute. Of course, he was nowhere near attractive by most witches' standard back then, and I selfishly thanked Merlin for it. Their gazes would halt when they got to his pointed, long nose. His high cheekbones that were sprinkled with freckles made him more mean-looking than he really is and as he was the tallest in our year, his movement were somehow awkward. By fifth year, he started filling out, though. His thick, deep red brows were arched strongly complementing his vivid, catastrophic blue eyes. He started to have that kind of face that would make you look twice and would make you stop in your tracks because you were sure he wasn't nearly that attractive before. I remembered the way he would meanly arched a brow to the witches that he'd caught staring at him, mistaking their dreamy faces to be mocking, malicious gazes. By sixth year, I started hearing snippets of conversations about other witches' opinion of Ron's appearance, to my great annoyance. They too noticed that he had started to grow on his features. Quidditch practice suited him quite nicely, giving him muscles to help him be fit and slowly got rid of his rather gangly figure, and his height complemented this and made him that more appealing.

I watched, mesmerized, as he ran a hand through his hair then took a hearty sip of the lager he was nursing in his other hand. I've always love his hair.

"I love your hair," I said absently.

Ron curiously turned his head to look at me. His brows were knitted in obvious disbelief and confusion, and then he shook his head in amusement and smiled at me fondly. "Merlin, you're drunk."

"No, I'm not," I denied. He pursed his lips to hide his obvious amusement about something I've said. I narrowed my eyes at him. I'm not even being funny. Why was he laughing at me? He puckered his lips to calm himself and again annoyingly shook his head, looking at me like I was doing something adorable.

I stared at his lips. I love his lips, too. I love its shape. I love how soft it feels every time I kiss him. _Oh, Merlin!_ I love his kisses, too. I miss kissing him. I miss kissing his soft lips. His cheeks. His jaw. _Ooh,_ what's that on his jaw? I put a finger on his jaw to caress his stubble.

Ron, who has again resumed talking to Annoying Lavender –Annoying Lavender! Huh, how hilarious! –looked at me again perplexedly, rather startled. Why was he looking at me like that? I just want to touch and study the short red gold strands of hair on his jaw.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Annoying Lavender halt his annoying babbling again and looked at us rather awkwardly. She looked a bit uncomfortable. Maybe it is because I am now leaning on Ron's arm and my hand is now cupping his cheek. Was she jealous? _Hmmm,_ serves her right. I shot her a smug, triumphant smirk. No more talking to her now. Her eyes widen and awkwardly got up, perhaps taking the hint, and said an excuse about going to the loo or something. I don't really care. I furrowed my brow, why am I being mean to her? Lavender's nice. She can be vapid at times but I shouldn't be mean to her. But, honestly, I could care less about her now. I nuzzled my face to Ron's neck, inhaling his scent. Oh, I missed smelling him, too. I felt Ron stiffen next to me.

I looked up at him and our eyes met. He wore an expression I couldn't quite decipher. My thumb was drawing circles on his jaw and I can feel the prickly roughness of his face, "You haven't shaved. You've got stubble," I pointed out.

"Yeah," whispered Ron breathlessly. I watch, hypnotized, as he gulped making his Adam's apple bob up and down. "Sorry, I know you don't like it."

I looked at him with knitted brows. "It's not that I don't like it," I whispered back gently. "I like touching it with my hands but I don't like it when you kissed or nuzzled me with it because it burns."

"Right," said Ron in a daze and I nodded absently then rested my head to his shoulder, snaking my arms to his chest and snuggled against him. I missed this.

"Hem hem," I heard someone cleared their throat behind me. I looked around and noted the put out expression of Ginny as I caught a fleeting glance of her profile. I scowled when I saw who it was that interrupted us.

"What?" I snapped rather rudely.

Pansy Parkinson rolled her eyes and ignored both of mine and Ginny's disgruntled expressions. I saw Astoria beside her gave me an uneasy smile.

"She's here," said Pansy, talking to Ron.

What? I looked at Ron for some clarification but he just nodded at Pansy.

"Alright then," said Ron, easing himself up off the couch we're sitting on. "Let's go." He then smiled apologetically at my confused expression and said, "Duty calls."

He then walked away with Pansy and company. I saw Astoria took Ron's arm and heard her telling him how she was enjoying the party even though it's not posh enough for her liking.

I heard Ginny released a disgusted snort after they were out of ear shot making me look at her. "The Pureblood Squad. What a joke!"

I raised an eyebrow at her, insulted in behalf of Ron. "In case you've forgotten, it is your brother who's the captain of the squad you're calling a joke!"

Ginny looked at me in alarm then sighed. "I don't mean it like that. It's just that, I just still don't like that Ron has to be a captain of a team that bigoted people made up. We're not even sure if they got Ron's back. What if something awful happen and no one I trust enough is there for him. I still don't understand how and why he actually trusted them now."

"I know," I answered with a sigh, looking back at Ron's retreating form that's now surrounded by wildly dancing bodies of witches and wizards. "He said that he just does. We should just trust him, I think."

I tried to sound sure and confident but I don't think I managed to do so. In fact, I'm still a bit wary about the team Ron's assigned to lead.

After the war and after Ron and I retrieved my parents back from Australia, Ginny and I decided to head back to Hogwarts and finish our studies while Harry and Ron jump-started their Auror training. Ron had barely passed the whole Auror training programme because he tried to help George to get the shop running back on track at the same time. Ron reckons that without Harry and Neville's help, he most probably would fail the whole Auror training. What perplexed us till now is why Pansy Parkinson, Astoria Greengrass, and other known wizards coming from 'Pureblood elite' families joined the Auror programme the following year. Since the war diminished the Auror office of its members, the training was cut short for applicants for the next three years after the war to 'replenish' the office. That means, the programme became thrice as hard to pass than normal which is saying something about the new fully trained Aurors. Unsurprisingly, Harry graduated with flying colours while Ron was just happy to graduate and at the same time managed to help George in the shop as well.

When Harry got assigned to captain the Junior Auror Alpha team, or the Auror Elites, Ron had been extremely happy to be included in that squad. To our general surprise, however, the Auror Office was forced by the higher ups, to the minister's great dismay, to create a group of Aurors composed only of Purebloods upon the request in aide of legislation by other Pureblood citizens. Since, most Pureblood can't still let go of their Blood Purity vendetta, to avoid any future disagreements, since most Purebloods expressed their worry of the ministry favouring half-bloods and muggleborns, for obvious 'discriminatory reasons', over them. The ministry granted the legislative request.

I still think that the minister should have vetoed against this legislative move. I remembered how the papers had a field day about this issue. The Quibbler published a lot of conspiracy theories against this while the rest of the papers lauded the decision. To still be in control, the Minister decided to pull Ron out of the Auror Elites and assigned him as the captain of the Junior Auror Ansuz team, or commonly known as the 'Pureblood Squad', since he was close to the Minister, a Pureblood with a respectable lineage, and a part of the 'Golden Trio'. I remembered how outraged we all were with this 'strategic' move. Ginny and I, in particular, still hold our grudges with the minister for this but deep down we understood that it is a necessary move. Thankfully, there was no further objection to this rather deft move by the Minister. _Politics takes a lot of power manipulation skills!_

"You know, I think Ron is a great leader for them," put in Harry. "They don't really listen to non-Pureblood leaders. Parkinson's still a bit nasty to us but she's actually a much better version of her schoolgirl self and a lot different from her attitude from when she started training. Come to think of it, it all started after their first mission. I still don't get why they don't fully disclose what really happened that time."

I groaned. Here we are again. "Not this again, Harry."

"What?" Harry said almost defensively. "You know it's true –" I rolled my eyes. _Here we go again_. –"No, really, they did do the mission report but I think they withheld vital information. Information about their capture, about Rowena McKaine and Cain Adamson's death. What I don't get is why. Why won't Ron tell us? He always tell me almost about everything," he added sadly.

I saw Ginny draw comforting circles on Harry's back and I took the glass of firewhiskey Ginny put down on the table.

"I know that. I know he wasn't really telling us all about what really happened on that abysmal mission," I said looking at both Harry and Ginny then took a dainty sip of the firewhiskey. I grimaced as the alcohol burned my throat. "But you know how depressed they all are after they came back. I don't think it's something someone would want to relive again to people who were not really there with them."

Harry looked away and Ginny gave me a weak smile. "Hermione's right, Harry," said Ginny gently. "Sometimes it's hard to tell someone something, even if you want to, if you're protecting them or someone else."

Harry and I look at her curiously. "You think, Ron might have promised someone in their group to withhold some information?" asked Harry with knitted brows.

Ginny just shrug. "Maybe. Maybe not. Who would know, really?" Ginny said then snaked her arms across Harry's chest to wrap him in a comforting embrace. "But, I guess, if that someone is ready enough then Ron might disclose us the real story. You know Ron, he's much better in keeping someone's secret than me," she added with a laugh.

 _Too right_ , I thought bitterly. I still remember knowing of her spilling my secret about kissing Viktor Krum just to spite Ron. Ugh! I can't help but still feel embittered about that. I know I shouldn't hold that against her after all this time but still!

"Ooh, who'sh tshat hot witch Ron'sh tshalking to?" asked an approaching Seamus to our general direction rather giddily, he looked thoroughly drunk. When had he left our table? "I shtill reckon I should've gone through the whole Auror thing, y'know. Aurorsh got all the hot witshes! And all tzhey have to do ish show their goddamn bash –no, bazz –no, bulge. . . " he then stopped confusedly, perhaps searching for the right word.

"You mean, badge?" supplied Ginny helpfully.

"Yeah, yeah, thash right!" exclaimed Seamus loudly. "Hey, Ginny," he then called out extending his index finger in the air, as if to ask someone to hold on for a while, while he swayed on his feet a bit. "Do you want to see my badge," he added with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows and laughed.

The innuendo wasn't lost on Harry, however, and his already flushed face turned a shade darker. "Sod off, Seamus, you're drunk!"

I gulped down the rest of my firewhiskey and to avoid any brawl if Seamus kept on putting his foot on his mouth, I asked Seamus, "What do you mean, Seamus? Who's Ron talking to?"

Seamus looked at me confusedly then tilted his head as if he has no idea what I was talking about then his face lit up in recognition. Suddenly he started talking clearly, to my surprise, "Oh, remember that cute witch our year with that heart-shaped face and really pouty lips? I remembered how Ron, Dean and me keeps wondering how deep her dimples are during third year. Merlin, I still remembered how I liked looking at her back when she's not wearing tha' bulky robes ya' witches wore. I remembered daring Dean to ask her to the Yule Ball but the wanker chickened out! That was hilarious, really!"

Umm, what? He was suddenly talking so fast he almost sounded like he was talking in gibberish.

"Uh, Seamus? Who are you talking about?"

"Turpin!" Seamus exclaimed. "Rosa Turpin. Or was that Mina?"

"You mean Lisa? Lisa Turpin?" supplied Harry in which Seamus answered with a nod and a finger gun salute indicating that Harry got it right.

"Oh, isn't she that haughty, stuck up girl in Ravenclaw?" asked Ginny curiously.

"Honestly, Ginny, Lisa isn't stuck up. We've got classes together in Ancient Runes and Arithmancy and she's nice enough," I reprimanded.

Ginny just shrug her shoulders unabashedly. "Don't really know that, do I? That's what just I heard from the other girls at school."

"Well, you, of all people, should know better than relying to what you just heard from others, don't you think?" I said with a scoff.

Ginny just held her hands in the air in mock surrender. I rolled my eyes at her childishness and took a sip with the firewhiskey I've refilled in my glass. I think I should stop drinking now. This would be the last glass for tonight.

"So," drawled Seamus sensing the awkward atmosphere but we then noticed Anthony tried to sit up using the table as leverage from being sprawled down the floor. Was he there the whole time? Merlin, he looked really drunk. Then he passed out again and his head fell to the floor with a thump. I heard him groan in pain then took Harry's leg that was just near his shoulder and kissed his feet, mumbling something that sounded like 'I love you'. Harry tried to get him off of him but he appeared to have a firm grasp on him. I heard Seamus coughed to get our attention back. "Anyway, as I was saying, why's Ron talking to her? Did they know each other?"

How can we possibly know that? We're together here the whole time. What an idiot! I tried to calm myself. The firewhiskey seemed to bring out the bitch in me.

"Yeah," panted Harry, successfully pulling his leg off of Anthony's grasp, who has now rolled face down on the floor. "She's one of the Criminal Law Legislators, I guess. Pretty hard to miss her when she's mostly in the DMLE and Auror Office to do whatever it is that she does."

"She's a DMLE solicitor, Harry," I corrected. "She's part of the DMLE sub-unit composed of solicitors to overlook and made sure that Magical Law Enforcers, HitWizards, Aurors and the rest under that Department have enough laws to protect them, restrict them and the likes."

"Oh, bureaucracy!" mock exclaimed Seamus exaggeratedly. "Anyway, Harry, mate, can you, you know, hook us up together?"

I never heard what Harry might have replied to Seamus' request for my eyes were now glued to the bar's counter. It was situated in a platform a few feet above the floor on the centre-most side of the mirror-tiled wall. Specifically to the two figures over there who were obviously flirting!

What in Merlin's name is he doing? I screeched in my head. Oh, why was he grinning at her like that? Oh, I'm going to rip that smile off his face, he'll see!

Funny, they were considerably far from us and I could still make out his face. It's like my eyes adapted a hawk-like sight.

I watched as Ron tilted his head rather sensually and was grinning madly at Lisa Turpin who's making flirty gestures with her lips and eyes. I felt my blood pressure went high in rage as I saw Lisa's hand touched Ron's arm in an obviously not so friendly way. I clenched my fists tightly and closed my eyes to stop myself from making a scene.

I don't know why I'm even acting like this. It's as if we're still together.

I tore my eyes away from the lascivious scene and roughly grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey, uncorking it. I momentarily wondered if a spell was cast on it or was it just another bottle for there seemed to be an abundant supply of it as I poured myself a glassful. I attempted to drink it bottoms up, forgetting how bad it burns and I ended up choking and spluttering as I tried in vain to ease the burning sensation on my throat managing to spill the rest of the content to my white top and to the floor as I loosen my hold of the glass in my hand.

I just wanted to scream. Then cry. Cry then throttle or better yet hex Ron for still having the ability of making me feel this way.

Ginny was quickly on my side asking me what's wrong, helping me to lessen the damage I've done on my top with a hanky and then muttered a 'scourgify' on my top as I try to tell her through a raspy voice that I am fine. It's the state of my heart she should be asking for if there's something wrong. Because there is. And I hate that I shouldn't be feeling this way 'cause I chose this. First, there's Katherine, then Lisa, who would be next? How many witches would I watch Ron flirt with before he decides that he had finally chosen someone to replace me completely? Would I want that? Should I choose on standing firm on my decisions and pursue my dreams for the marginalized beings or should I not? Would that make me selfish if I choose the latter? Or if I choose to remain firm on my aspirations, would it be worth it?

"The firewhiskey's not exactly like butterbeer, you know," said Harry, calling me out of my reverie. "You can't just pour it down your throat in a gulp."

I looked blankly at him. I struggled to keep my face void of any expression but I'm sure my eyes betrayed me from hiding the forlorn and miserable realization that I feel . . . what? I don't even know how I feel now. I'm sure I felt betrayed but am I really? I'm beyond hurt but am I entitled to feel so? But then as I looked at the unadulterated concern and worry dancing on the green orbs of one of my longest friend, I remembered a vague memory of one of our conversations when we're sharing a meagre dinner composed of some mushroom and a piece of stale bread we managed to get somewhere. I remember how helplessly miserable we both were, wondering if we could still manage to get through another day and me wondering where in hell had Ron landed himself into.

I had asked Harry what could possibly be worse than the uncertainty of our survival and I remembered how his answer kept me awake that night. He had said that it was regret. How he regretted being busy getting angry at Dumbledore for not trusting him enough that he forgot to say thank you when he's still alive for all his little efforts to keep him secured and alive; for not giving Mr. and Mrs. Weasley a hug and possibly a kiss on the cheek for giving him a family; for not telling Sirius how much he meant to him; for not having the possible last chance of telling Ginny how much he loves her.

I remembered wanting to shout at him for the last part. I remembered resenting him for having the chance of saying those three words to the one he love whereas I wasn't given the chance.

And then, I got the chance and I'm just letting it go away again. I stayed on the sidewalk as I watched him slowly crossed the road alone, away from me. But what could I do really? The damage has been done. I'm back to repressing my feelings and hoping it would go away one day. I found it funny that I can't seem to take the heat of the fire I've started.

"You looked constipated," said a dreamy voice out of nowhere. I looked at Luna confusedly. What? Can she just go back to her weird dancing; I'm having a moment here. I bowed down my head to avoid offending Luna in case I forgot to stifle an eye roll while I look at her. I stayed there rigid as a rock, my clenched fists on top of my lap, trying my best not to cry. I wonder how pathetic I might look right now. "You'll always look like that if you continue holding it back. You better let it go, you know, before it could hurt you more."

I turned my head to her direction so fast I'm surprised I didn't get a whiplash. Did she know what's going on my mind? Why am I even asking? This is Luna I'm talking to. I realized, rather sadly, that she's right. If I won't do anything to tell Ron that I want him back –there I said it, I want him back –then he'll just keep on slipping through my fingers. And would I want that? Would I want him to be the one that got away?

I know the answer is no.

Harry and Ginny shot me bewildered concerned looks which I dismissed with a weak smile. I looked at Luna and smiled weakly at her too. She stared at me unblinkingly in that somehow infuriatingly odd way of hers as if she's figuring out a way to solve a puzzle. I just shook my head in resignation. That's Luna for you.

"Sorry about that," said a just returned Ron with an apologetic smile, blissfully unaware of the rage building inside me. He plopped down the couch, in the vacant spot next to me. I felt his arm snaked its way behind me, resting lazily on the backrest. He grinned at me. "Now where have we left off, if you don't mind me asking?"

If I don't mind? _Ha!_ Of course, I do! He flirted with another witch then he'd come back here as if I didn't just witnessed his betrayal! _The nerve of this man!_

"Oh, I don't know, I think I already forgot," I said hotly. "You know, it seemed to me that you find our conversation so utterly boring that you've had to excuse yourself and go flirt with another girl."

I found the shocked reaction of Ron on my outburst utterly satisfying and enraging at the same time. The poor man looked absolutely lost. As if he had no idea that I can actually see him flirting with someone else in this crowded room. Well, too bad for him then.

"W-wha –?" he managed to splutter but I cut him off.

"Why are you even here? Why did you even come back? Found her too boring for your tastes as well you've came back to check if I can actually entertain you now?"

I am vaguely aware of the curious attention I've drawn with my shouting. Heck, I didn't even notice my voice raised an octave too high from the considered volume used for a civilized confrontation or that I've stood up and was now glaring malevolently down at Ron. I took a deep breath to calm myself and fully dwell on Ron's now stupefied form. I saw Harry and Ginny casually flirting with each other on the couch across us as if this is a regular, day-to-day occurrence. I then noticed Luna, who's still staring at me oddly that soon changed to a determined expression, reached out to me and started fending imaginary creatures off me.

 _Arrggh!_

That's it! I need to get out of here before I combust.

I grabbed my cloak from the backrest and turned towards the exit, passing through the dancing throng of sweat-smelling, alcohol-overdosed witches and wizards. I elbowed at least four people out of the way, uncaring if I actually managed to hurt them or not. My sole focus was to get out of here while I can still keep the tears at bay. I didn't even noticed that I am being roughly shove down by a corpulent witch that I unintentionally bumped hardly into until I was losing my footing, a mortifying thought of how embarrassing I might look like sprawled face first to the floor crossed my mind. But then I feel a hand grabbing me and pulling me close, enclosing me towards a firm, broad chest, preventing my face from its close acquaintance to the floor.

"Watch where you're going, you bitch!" I heard the witch spat angrily.

"That's enough! Move along now!" I heard Ron order in a harsh tone and sensed the witch walked away with an annoyed 'hmp!'. He pushed me off of his chest a little to look at me with concerned eyes, pushing stray curls off my face then cupping my cheek with the hand that isn't encircled around me. "Hey, you alright? Are you hurt? Why're you crying?"

I shook my head hastily burying my face once more to his chest, feeling defeated. Why couldn't I just have the dignified departure I deserve? Damn, tears! Damn, heart! Damn, Ron and his intoxicating scent mingled with the spicy aroma of alcohol that aggravates my already inebriated thoughts. Why did I have to break down now? _In front of Ron, no less!_ I had a fleeting feeling of chagrin on how incongruous was my sudden emotional outburst to the raving public and loud, pulsating music. I think this kind of moments should have the dreary scenery of a lonely park accompanied with a strong outpour of rain for added dramatic effects.

I don't know how but I vaguely noticed Ron lead me through the dancing mob, then out of the pub, and out of Diagon Alley, keeping me close on his arms the whole time. I just feel totally embarrassed that I just trusted him to get me out of there and save me from further humiliation. Before I knew it, we were in a muggle street that is just a walking distance away to our old home.

I stopped on my tracks suddenly, shaking off from the daze I was in. Ron halted as well and I can practically sense his concern and confusion. I disentangled myself off him forcibly and took off stomping away from him then halted when I was a few feet away and spinned back around sharply with an enraged scowl to Ron's further bewilderment.

"I can manage from here," I said with an angry dismissal. "You can go now!"

I had to fight down the sadistic urge to smirk in satisfaction upon seeing the wounded expression that flashed on Ron's face. Then I saw him lean down his upper body a little, looking down on the ground, he put a hand on his hip and the other run through his hair in frustration then gripped it. I hear him took a frustrated sigh. I'm sure his ears and neck were probably red in anger now. I know he was trying to calm himself and was trying not to lash back at me. He always had a hard time keeping his temper in check and his mouth shut, but since he chose to be an Auror, he had no choice but try to keep a calm, contained demeanour at all times.

Unfortunately, he seemed to struggle to contain himself whenever it comes to me. I seemed to know exactly what buttons to push and what the best word-sword to wield that can pierce through his heart the most.

He then looked at me angrily then took intimidating steps towards me, closing the few inches gap between us. I stuck my chin up in defiance, craning my neck to meet his blazing eyes. I refuse to cower down before him.

"What the bloody hell is your problem?" he snarled. We were toe to toe now, both stubborn enough to back down and let the other win. "One minute you're wrapping your bloody self against me then you're biting my head off the next. And I don't even know what the bloody hell is the reason why! You know what? You're impossible!"

"No, you're impossible!" I echoed rather childishly to Ron's annoyance. He narrowed his eyes at me trying to intimidate me which doesn't work to his obvious chagrin.

I watched him looked away, it seemed like he was gathering his thoughts, then he heaved a loud sigh. He looked back at me with desperate eyes. "What's going on with you, Hermione? What happened? Was it something I did? Did I do something to upset you? Tell me."

I looked at his shoulder, scowling at it. Burning a hole on it with my eyes. How could he not know? Was he that oblivious? Did he think I wouldn't catch him in that crowd?

"Goddammit, Hermione! Answer me!" he barked, using his intimidating voice when I kept quiet.

He wasn't really the most patient person I know.

I scowled at him angrily. "Stop telling me what to do, Ronald Weasley!" I shouted at him, jabbing him on his chest with a finger. I saw his face contorted in a frustrated confusion. "And. Stop. Cursing. At. Me." I added, poking him hardly with each word for emphasis. Damn, he didn't even flinch.

He caught my hand to stop me from poking him, holding it in place. I tried to shrug off his grasp but he held my hand firmly and he was too strong so I just gave up the fight. I looked down, my eyes stings and I just found myself sobbing in abandon all of a sudden.

I'm tired. My heart aches. It's as if someone pulled it out off my chest, then threw it and stomped on it for good measure. Can't he just go and leave me in peace so that I can nurse my broken heart once more. Can't he see how hurt I am?

He just stayed there holding my fist against his chest while I cry my heart out.

"I hate you," I said in a dejected whisper after a while, punching him with my free hand. "I hate you," I said again with a weak punch. Then said it again a few more times with the strongest punch I could muster. I want him to feel my pain. I want to hurt him at least physically, if not emotionally.

He just stood there, letting me punch him, allowing me to transfer some of my pain to him, however feeble.

"Hermione," he breathed after a while, catching my other hand, trapping it with the other in one hand. He tucked my hair behind my ear, and then caressed my cheek softly. He wiped the tears off my face, too lovingly for my liking that pinched my frustrated heart again. He then tilted my chin, forcing me to look at him. "Tell me what's wrong, please. I don't want to fight."

I locked my gaze on his eyes. I can see his sincerity through his blue orbs and I feel my resolve slowly crumble.

"Why are you with Lisa Turpin?" I asked weakly. I know I just made myself vulnerable but I need to know. I have to know.

Ron's brow furrowed in confusion then an amused smirk broke in on his handsome face. I pulled my hands off from his hold forcibly. This time he let me. I scowled at him, unamused that he found my question and sort of admission amusing.

"Okay, I'm sorry," he said in mock seriousness, not sounding sorry at all. "Is Lisa Turpin the reason why you're acting up, Hermione?"

"I'm not acting up!" I protested.

"Of course, you're not. Of course," he said annoyingly. "Whatever might be your pretty, hyperactive mind is thinking, that's not it," he said in all seriousness. I scowled at him, not at all convinced. "I swear."

"You don't even know what I'm thinking!" I challenged, crossing my arms on my chest, glaring at him.

Ron rolled his eyes at me which I find really annoying, so I glared at him more.

"Really now, Hermione?" he asked with a quirk of his brow. "I know you. I know you were concocting silly scenarios on your head about –"

"Concocting!" I shouted indignantly. "For your information, mister, I saw you flirting with her with my own eyes. You were grinning down at her like a maniac; I'm surprised you haven't split your face in two. And not just that! You! You were letting her touch you. You were even laughing with her. I wonder what was the stupid joke had you cracked then, huh? What was it? Tell me! Thought I'm not going to catch you, aren't you? _Ha!_ Guess what? I did!"

I ranted like a lunatic girlfriend I swore I will never be.

Ron took a step back, eyes wide in surprise.

" _Woah_ , easy there, tiger," he said leaning towards me to grab my arms. "I don't know where you got that idea but I swear it's nothing like that. I was just trying to convince her to do something for the squad. Nothing else, I swear."

I looked at him sceptically. Carefully considering his rather vague admission. "Is that the truth?"

"Yeah, it is," he answered solemnly, trying to fully convince me. "I would tell you what it was about but it was work related and you know what the stupid rule is. But please believe me when I say that I wasn't doing anything wrong. Besides, if I do I won't do it in the same place where you currently are in, would I? Honestly, I'm not that daft."

He rolled his eyes like I was being silly. As if that actually would make me feel better! He's infuriating!

"Oh, so I should thank you then for having the clever idea of no cheating if Hermione's watching, right?"

Ron let out a frustrated noise and rubbed his face with his hands in exasperation. "That's not what I mean! _Merlin!_ I –it just came out wrong. What I mean is –I would never cheat on you, you know that!"

I scoffed. Crossing my arms to my chest. "Perhaps not deliberately, maybe," I grumbled. "And it's not exactly comforting, if you must know."

Ron looked at me like he had no idea what I meant, his mouth agape. "Wh-what?"

"You flirted with Lisa –"

"I told you, I did not!" Ron protested.

" – even though I was in the same vicinity with the both of you. Don't even let me get started with Lavender."

"What's Lavender got to do with this? The three of us were together in case you don't remember, remember?"

"Yes," I confirmed. "But you entertained her, not me" I said weakly. Ron closed his eyes shut. I have a feeling I'm about to open a can of worms. _Here goes nothing_. "You were talking together and you were awfully interested over whatever she might have said. And it hurts me that you were more interested on talking with your ex over me and it hurts because I'm your ex as well and I know I don't have the right to feel this way but I can't help it because my stupid heart kept on telling me that you're mine even though you weren't and it was me who let you go and I feel so stupid because I let you go even though it is killing me inside." I gushed and I need to take a hearty intake of air before I weakly continued, "I hate it because I wanted you to talk to me, just me. I missed you. A lot. It's been months now. Don't you miss me?"

Gosh, I sounded like a clingy, over-possessive jealous girlfriend. I hate it.

I looked at Ron apprehensively. I just poured my heart out to him. I, Hermione Granger, just admitted in front of Ron Weasley that I'm stupid for letting him go and that I'm jealous. And that I miss him.

As my gaze found his, which were already pinned at me, my eyes widen in surprise from the intensity of the way Ron looks at me. I'm overwhelmed with the display of emotions that was dancing through his mesmerizing orbs. I'm dying to know what's going on in his mind right now. He just keep on looking at me in that intense way of his that I find myself fidgeting in anticipation. I furrowed my brow in impatience and worry. What if he had already move on? What if he no longer care about me but is just thinking how to break it to me gently to soften the blow?

He then moved his hand to smoothen my hair and tucked another stubborn stray curl behind my ears but his hand lingered, cupping my face. I looked at him with hopeful eyes. Maybe he still loves me.

"Really?" he breathed after a while. I furrowed my brow not quite understanding then he smiled at me and added, "You miss me?"

I rolled my eyes at him and scoffed, "Don't be stupid. Of course, I do."

Just then he enveloped me in a hug, trapping me in his hard chest. And I hugged him back rather fiercely. I want to feel every inch of him. Merlin, I missed him so much. But then I realized that he hadn't really answered my question. So I pulled back a bit to look at him.

"You never really answered me, you know. Do you miss me?" I asked anxiously, sounding as insecure as I feel right now. What if he doesn't?

Ron rolled his eyes playfully and then grinned mischievously, "Don't be stupid. Of course, I do," he said playfully that made me roll my eyes in mock-exasperation and smiled at him coyly. "Bloody hell, I miss you like so bloody much."

I swatted his chest playfully. "Don't call me stupid," I chastised him with a childish pout. I'm very much overwhelmed with his admission that I don't know how to deal with it so I choose to point out a safe topic. That I can deal with. "And stop cursing!"

Ron clucked his tongue reproachfully. "I just told you that I miss you and yet you're more concerned with my bloody mouth. Hell, I can even say that 'I bloody love you' and you'd only notice the word bloody and ignore the rest. What am I going to do with you, my love?" he said with a fond chuckle.

I can feel the heat creeping to my cheeks with his admission. He loves me! He just said he loves me. I smiled at him shyly.

"You do?" I asked timidly, toying on his collar. "You –you still love me?"

Ron looked at me amusedly like I was asking something silly.

"I mean," I continued a bit hesitantly. "I wasn't really the nicest person the last time we've talked. I –I said stuff I shouldn't and believe me that I was truly sorry for it. And . . . I –I sort of broke your heart because I thought I should . . ."

I swallowed audibly. Tears were forming on my eyes again. My guilt was making it hard for me to admit and continue talking. I took a step back. I can't look at him in the eyes in shame. I need some space to pull myself together to continue because I have to. Because Ron deserves to know the truth. I hugged myself, bracing myself for the incoming emotional turmoil.

"You thought what, Hermione?" asked Ron encouragingly. I can hear the impatience in his voice. I guess the suspense is killing him.

I took a breath and faced him. "I thought I should consider my options. I thought that they were right, that I should explore more. I thought I should focus more on the Wizengamot Selection. I thought I should prioritize my moral obligations. I thought . . . I thought I can do better on my own. I thought I can but I was wrong. I want you still. I love you still. I want you back. And I hate it that I need to choose between you and my dreams."

I was crying openly again. Why do these tears seem to be endless? I feel like my guilt is eating my whole being as sobs racked my body. My reasons for ending things and breaking his heart seemed silly and unforgivable even in my own ears.

"Why do you think you need to choose, Hermione?" Ron asked gently. he sounded pained and miserable and it hurts that I was the reason for it. He said it so low I could have missed it. "Did I ever did or said something to make you think that way?"

I looked at him pleadingly, for what, I'm not quite certain. "I don't know . . . Y-you just keep on telling m-me to do stuff this way and that way. I thought you were –I thought you were t-trying to hinder me or s-sabotage me. I know it sounded silly b-but that's what I thought at that time. You –you were suffocating me sometimes and I –I need to just breathe and you're always there –" I said in between sobs.

"So you chose to break my heart," Ron cut off. His tone was casual but I can feel the bitterness in it and I can't help but cry harder.

I shook my head, a tad in denial. Of course, I know it's the truth and that made it worse. "I'm sorry," I gasped.

Ron turned his back at me and I panicked. I throw myself on his back and hugged him fiercely, scared that he might walk away. We need to settle this down now. Walking away won't solve anything.

"Please," I pleaded, sounding desperate as I clung onto him further. "Please don't go. Please let's talk this out. Don't leave me. Please."

"What's there to talk about, Hermione?" asked Ron, his tone bitter. "You clearly think I'm a hindrance to your dreams. We would not want that now, won't we?"

"I was being stupid," I said desperately, grasping at straws. "I thought I need to choose but you were just trying to help me and I failed to realize that . . . I'm sorry. Please, tell me how to make it up to you. I'd do anything just tell me –tell me how –tell me what to do."

Ron seemed to consider this for he stay stood still while I trapped him in my embrace. I buried my head on the centre of his spine, whispering the word "please" over and over like a mantra against his back. Finally, he heaved a great sigh of resignation and took my hands that were engulfed around him, patting it gently.

"S'alright, I understand" he sighed. "You were just being stupid. I reckon I should be more understanding. Merlin knows how many chances you've given me when I messed up, it's time to return the favour," he added with a shrug that made me release a relieved shrug and then he disentangled my arms off him and turned to face me. He studied my face and his face was painted in weak resignation. He again wiped the tears off my face. He looked back at me, his demeanour serious and my breath hitched. "No. That's a lie. I don't really understand. I'm still pissed with you. Well, that's saying it lightly. But, I'll try, you know, to be more understanding. We are all pressured to prove something, so in a way I can understand that. But, still, I'm not very happy with you. I thought you ought to know. It's going to take a while but I'll try. We could both do, yeah?"

I nodded fervently. Honestly, if that's the best I can have after all this mess then I'm taking it. "I understand, really," I said and he gave me a weak, grateful smile. "I'll make it up to you, yeah?"

Ron quirked an eyebrow in suspicion, "And how would you do that, huh? Are you going to sort of court me back like I did the last time or something?" he teased then laughed as if he found the idea really amusing.

I can hear a bit of disbelief in his voice and a dash of a challenging tone. As if he was sure I would never do such a thing. Not one to back out in any challenge. I look straight into his eyes and with a fervent passion, whispered, "Yes."

Ron gulped, obviously surprised and is he . . . turned on? I smirked smugly at him. Taking absolute pleasure in catching him off guard. Ron blinked and opened his mouth to say something but then, perhaps thought better about it, closed his mouth shut. He then stuttered a, "You don't have to." I pierced him a pointed look that says how serious I am and that shut him up and looked down in surrender. He shook his head fondly then looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes, smiling at me lovingly.

"Merlin, I love you."

I smiled widely at him, bouncing on my feet a little. I feel like a schoolgirl who –no, scratch that. I feel like I'm in heaven. I feel lightheaded. I feel like I'm about to throw up rainbows with glitters. I feel the butterflies in my tummy were doing a wild, celebratory ritual of some sort. I feel I can do anything. I'm ridiculously happy as if my system just produced thrice the endorphins that are strictly necessary.

"I'm not Merlin but I love you, too," I quipped and he laughed.

* * *

I found this chapter really hard to write. I struggled to make everyone in character but I'm afraid I'm not that successful. Thanks for the reviews. I would love to hear your thoughts about this chapter. Drop me a review.


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